The Second Malfoy
by roonil-bilius-wazlib
Summary: When a plot to kidnap the children of blood traitors during Voldemort's first war goes awry, the Malfoys find themselves raising Ron Weasley as their own. Will anyone at Hogwarts recognize that Ronaldus Malfoy is not who he thinks he is? A 1st year story. NOT inspired by Hermoninny94's Ron Malfoy (I didn't know about her story until recently), but similar.
1. Prologue: Ripped Away

_**Prologue:**_

_**Ripped Away**_

"You deserve this, did you know that?" the cold, high, menacing voice said gleefully as he held the small bundle in his long-fingered hands. "In fact, you're lucky that I am only taking your child and not your lives."

Lightning struck outside, and the flash threw the faces of the Dark Lord's victims into sharp relief. The Petrified man with bright red hair and glasses askew stared at his captor in fear, unable to move a single muscle. The woman, also with bright red hair, was at the feet of the intruder, bound by ropes that the man had conjured from his wand. She squirmed pathetically, trying desperately to reach her own wand that had fallen just out of reach. With each movement, the ropes around her tightened painfully.

"Please, take our lives instead," she begged through her tears. "Please, don't hurt our Ronnie!"

"SILENCE!" the evil man snapped, slashing his wand in the air and ending the din of the mother's crying. "You should have thought of your son when you decided to stand up against me." He watched happily as the woman continued to squirm without any sound escaping her lips. "Think of it this way, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley: This is a warning. If you continue to fight back against me, I will not just destroy one child. I'll take them all."

Then, without another word, Lord Voldemort turned on his heel and left the Weasleys to their struggling.

A loud crack echoed across the countryside, and Narcissa Malfoy sat straight up in bed. From a room down the long corridor, the sound of a tiny voice crying out reached her ears.

"Dobby!" her husband snapped from beside her. Another loud crack resounded, this time in the room.

The house elf cowered in fear as he faced his master. "Yes, sir?" he asked in a pathetic little squeak.

"What do you mean, 'yes'?" Lucius Malfoy snapped aggressively as he too sat up. "Our son is crying and here you are wasting time with us! Attend to Draco, you little pest!" Dobby nodded in understanding and Disapparated down the hall. Within moments, Draco's cries died down.

"Do you think it's him?" Narcissa asked nervously, familiar butterflies dancing in her stomach.

"Who else would it be at this time of night?" Lucius grumbled as he moved to the wardrobe and extracted the nicest robes he had that were currently clean. Following his lead, Narcissa bolted out of bed to her own wardrobe and donned a beautiful green silk gown that her mother once bought her for the annual Christmas Ball held by the Ministry of Magic. It was amazing to her that it still fit, giving that she had given birth since that ball, but she supposed it was only natural that she was still rather tiny. After all, the stress that she was constantly under quelled any appetite that she would have normally experienced.

"What do you think he wants? To discuss the prophecy?"

"Perhaps," Lucius confided, buckling a belt around his midsection. "Or he could want to discuss Indoctrination tactics."

"Excuse me?" Narcissa asked as she fixed her hair in a mirror upon the wall.

"Erm…" Lucius said uncomfortably, "…it's a new mission that the Dark Lord has asked some of us to take on, dear. I'll tell you about it after we see him." Her husband rushed over to the door at this, his clothing all in order, and held it open for his wife. Narcissa hated it when Lucius kept her in the dark as far as Death Eater plans were concerned. She knew he had his reasons for this, of course. He desperately wanted to keep her and little Draco as safe as possible. Voldemort was a ruthless enemy to have, and the less everyone knew about what he was up to, the better. Still, she would have liked to have known the things Lucius got involved in, especially since one of the promises he had made her when they married was that he would keep no secrets from her.

When they arrived in the entrance hall to Malfoy Manor, they were not surprised to see Voldemort had already entered their home. He was standing in their entryway, a bundle of blankets in his arms and a smug smile upon his face. "Ah, Lucius, Narcissa…so good of you to leave the comfort of your bed in order to entertain your Master," he greeted them.

"Would you like to come into the drawing room, my lord?" Lucius asked, eyeing the blankets in Voldemort's arms warily. "I could get the elf to make you a drink."

"No need, Lucius. I merely came to drop this off to you." Voldemort passed the small bundle over to his servant and Narcissa heard the sound of a soft coo come from the depths of the fabric. Leaning over slightly, she saw a pale, chubby faced child asleep in her husband's arms.

"An infant?" she questioned in shock.

"Yes. Do not tell me Lucius failed to inform you of his big plan?" Voldemort asked, and the confusion on Narcissa's face was enough to seemingly delight the Dark Lord. He gave Lucius a look that seemed like mock disappointment. "Oh, Lucius," he said. "What an appallingly bad husband you've been. I suppose, though, that I should be grateful that you have chosen to be more loyal to me than you have your wife. Such loyalty never goes unrewarded, you know."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius mumbled, his eyes remaining downcast. Narcissa knew that he was feeling ashamed for not confiding in her and for having been called out as he was by Voldemort. As annoyed as she was by her husband, she could not find it in her heart to be too angry with him, for she knew he always had a good reason for keeping information from her. Voldemort's plan to shame Lucius in the eyes of his wife was one that Narcissa would not allow to work.

"What plan is this, Lucius?" she asked in as kind a voice as she could manage.

She hoped to be encouraging to him, but the sweet manner in which she addressed him seemed to make her husband uneasy. For a good, long moment he did nothing but stare at the child in his arms. Then he said, "As you know, dear, there have been a lot of blood traitors who have been aiding Mudbloods in escaping from us. The Dark Lord has not wanted to kill any of them, since their blood is pure, but he wanted to punish them somehow for insubordination. So, a couple of weeks ago, I suggested that the best way to do this would be to take children from their homes and raise them to be the next generation of Death Eaters."

Narcissa could do nothing but stare at her husband. His eyes were still cast upon the face of the sleeping baby, and automatically, she knew why he had been so hesitant to tell her of this plot. If she would have known, she would have never gone with it. As a mother, how in the world could she agree to such a heinous crime? Even a family of blood traitors, who should have been grateful that someone was taking steps to purify wizardkind, did not deserve this sort of punishment. Briefly, she imagined how she would feel if someone took Draco in the dead of night. Her life would be over as she knew it. Never again would she be the same person; she would be completely broken.

"You are displeased, Narcissa," Voldemort stated, looking at her distastefully. Immediately, she regretted her moment of weakness. To be in the same room with the Dark Lord involved constant concentration in order to block any negative thoughts that may break the surface. Voldemort was an accomplished Legilimens, but he usually could never read Narcissa as well as he would have liked, as she was a brilliant Occlumens. Tonight, she had accidentally let her guard down.

"I…merely feel for the child's mother," she said. It was only a partially honest answer. She more than _merely_ felt for the woman. If she had it her way, she would take the baby back to her immediately.

"Well, your feelings, I daresay, will pass with time," Voldemort commented, still looking rather disgusted with Narcissa's compassion for what the Dark Lord clearly thought were unfit parents. "Once you realize that the woman who birthed this child does not deserve him. He is a pureblood and therefore should be given the best in life."

Would Voldemort been another person, Narcissa would have argued with him. Indeed, she felt compelled to shoot a nasty comment back at him, but her sense of propriety and fear of the man before her held Narcissa back. She could not argue with the Dark Lord. Her son depended on her and she could not put him in danger.

"What are your plans with this child then, Master?" Lucius asked, sensing confrontation brewing from his wife's side.

Voldemort turned his eyes onto his faithful Death Eater and answered, "Since you were the one who conceived this plot and you are one of my more trusted servants, Lucius, I decided to leave the child here with you for the time being."

"For the time being, my lord?" Lucius asked in bemusement.

"Until the prophecy business is dealt with," Voldemort replied. "He has informed you of that, has he not?" Now he was looking upon Narcissa mockingly, clearly still relishing in the fact that Lucius had not shared his plan with his own wife.

"He has, my lord," she answered, trying to keep her voice as indifferent as possible. For good measure, she attempted to get back onto topic. "What happens to the child once the prophecy is broken?"

"After that, I will take him into my care. He will be my heir." Voldemort looked upon the boy with what Narcissa could only equate to fondness, though she wasn't sure she could really call it that. It wasn't really an affectionate look (she was quite certain that he was incapable of feeling what most Death Eaters referred to as "soft emotions"), but more of an excited, anticipatory, and hungry glance. Clearly, Voldemort had been waiting for an opportunity like this for some time. "I will raise him to work alongside me. But first I must rid the earth of this nuisance that everyone imagines will be my end. Until then, I need you to take charge of him."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius and Narcissa answered as one. Truth be told, she was rather glad that she would not have to take care of the baby long-term. The guilt would have been too much to bear.

As if that was all he needed to really hear, Voldemort turned on his heel and began to exit the home. Suddenly looking eager, Lucius called, "My lord, may I ask whose child this was?"

Voldemort turned back and answered, "The Weasleys. They called him Ronald. Horrible, Muggle sort of name. I trust you can give him a new one that is suited for a pureblooded wizard." He looked at Lucius meaningfully and turned back to the exit, leaving the Malfoys in a very uncomfortable silence.

Narcissa turned to look at her husband, her heart now fully aching for Molly Weasley, but was frightened to see her husband beaming down upon little Ron.

"A Weasley, eh?" he said excitedly. And all of a sudden, Mrs. Malfoy knew exactly why her husband had formulated this plan.

Lord Voldemort never came back for his child. His plan to kill the baby in the prophecy backfired horribly, and a month after the fateful night that Ronald Weasley was delivered to their home, the Malfoys were left with a very big burden.

"I still say we should drop him off on his parents' doorstep," Narcissa said, pacing back and forth in their drawing room. She watched briefly as Draco, who was seated on the floor with his new friend, used his stuffed dragon to attack Ron's teddy bear. It was hard to suggest that Ron be returned to his real family. She was quite taken with him now. Sure, he was a tad fussy at times, but for the most part, he was sweet and very loving. Far more, she realized with dismay, than her own son. Still, Ron's family was purebloods and the Dark Lord was gone. He needed to be with them.

"And I say we'll be caught and arrested, Narcissa," Lucius answered warily, biting his nails. "It's bad enough that we have the Ministry breathing down our necks about our involvement. If they knew we were the source for a plot to kidnap blood traitors' children and teach them to be Death Eaters…I mean, that's good enough for a Kiss!"

Narcissa's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the idea of suffering the worst fate that could befall any person. Nervously she looked over at Draco and Ron and began biting her nails just like her husband. "I wish this would have never happened," she said. "Damn you for being so spiteful!"

"Language, dear!" Lucius insisted, looking upon the two boys nervously. Ron looked up at Narcissa and opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead stuck his teddy bear's foot in his mouth. Lucius smirked at the boy, then, as if he suddenly understood fully what Narcissa had just said, he twisted his head over toward her in outrage. "And whatever do you mean by that?"

"I know that the only reason you created this plot was to seek vengeance on Arthur Weasley for his marrying Molly Prewett!" Narcissa yelled, shaking. Lucius looked shocked and tried to say something, but Narcissa cut him off. "No, let me finish! I know you liked her and that you wanted her, but our marriage was already arranged. So you've hated Arthur ever since for getting the one you wanted."

There. It was out. She had never confronted her husband with this very harsh and painful truth before, though it had been bothering her ever since she first learned that she was to marry Lucius Malfoy. She, of course, easily fell in love with the dashing young man from Derbyshire, but had also been witness to how he looked upon Molly Prewett at the time. Narcissa turned on her heel toward the window, leaving her husband sitting in stunned silence. The sounds of Draco and Ron playing behind her filled her ears and she allowed the innocent noises to calm her. _At least they love me, _she thought, though she immediately chided herself for including Ron in her thoughts. _He's not even my son!_

"I did not love Molly," Lucius suddenly spoke from right behind her. "And I am not jealous that Arthur has her, dear. I'm in love with you, believe me. Sure, I may have at one point liked her. But I fell in love with _you_, Narcissa. There is no one in the world I would rather have as my wife." His arms wrapped around her protectively, and Narcissa sank into them. "You are right, though. I wanted to get to Arthur, but only because it disgusts me that a pureblood like him goes around and behaves like a Muggle, when he should have been on our side. That is all."

"If you love me," Narcissa whispered as she turned around in her husband's arms and stared him in the eyes, "you'll understand my feelings about Ron. I can't sit here with another woman's child knowing how bad she must be missing him. I can't do it, Lucius."

Lucius' gaze faltered and he whispered back, "I'm afraid it's too late. We cannot return him. What if the Dark Lord comes back, Narcissa? What if he returns and we've given away the child who he marked as his heir? Do you realize the sort of danger that would put Draco in? And Ron, for that matter."

Narcissa turned her eyes upon both of the children on the carpet. They both appeared to be happy, smiling widely and sharing toys. She could not imagine the sort of harm that came to Ron's family coming to hers. She simply wouldn't allow it. If that meant keeping an infant who was not rightfully hers, then it was settled. "What do we do, then?"

"We say he's Draco's twin," Lucius stated.

"No one will believe that. You haven't spoken of him to anyone beyond the Death Eaters," Narcissa said.

"We can say he's been sickly. One of the Death Eaters works in the Department of Records and I can have him add Ron to the registry of our family after hours. He can also mark Ronald Weasley as deceased so that there will be no question of his identity." He tilted his head over toward Ron, who, quite sadly, looked up at his former name, as if expecting some sort of treat.

"What do we call him? He answers to Ron and only Ron if you haven't noticed. None of the names we tried for the Dark Lord seemed to suit him anyway." Narcissa shuddered to think of the ridiculous names that they thought befit Voldemort's heir and tried out on the boy. Vindicticus, Titan, Grimmoire…all were too foul to suit the happy child they had inherited.

"We will call him Ron then!" Lucius declared, staring down at the little child in a frenzied sort of affection.

"But it can't be Ronald! The Weasleys will see right through that!" Narcissa declared. Then and epiphany struck her. "I know! We'll call him Ronaldus after my grandfather! That's probably who he's named after anyway, since Ronaldus was Molly's great uncle. They just made it sound more like a Muggle name, because Molly's husband is a fool." She wrinkled her nose, deciding instantly that the best way to get over having stolen one of the Weasleys' children was to speak ill of them and imagine that they were, in fact, bad for Ron.

"Perfect!" Lucius said smiling. He still looked worried, but it felt like everything was falling into place for both of them. Even though there was doubt still lingering, the air of gloom that had filled the room only seconds ago dissipated and left the Malfoys feeling just a tad more peaceful. "And since Draco is named after me, we'll give Ronaldus my middle name."

"Ronaldus Piscean Malfoy," Narcissa said, trying the name out on her tongue. To her, it seemed to fit. Slowly, she made her way over to her new son, bent down, and lifted him into her arms. "How does that sound to you, Ronaldus?" she asked.

Ron smiled, leaned forward in her arms, and gave his new mother a slobbery kiss on the cheek. Narcissa grinned at him and kissed his soft cheek in return. "What do we do about his hair? It's Weasley red." Again, she wrinkled her nose distastefully.

"I think there's a potion for lightening hair," Lucius commented, picking up Draco (who seemed slightly jealous that Ron was suddenly getting attention and was holding his arms up desperately). "I'll have to ask Severus about it. He knows about Ron, by the way." Narcissa nodded as though it made sense that Snape would know. She couldn't really imagine him being in on the plot to kidnap blood traitors' children, since Snape wasn't really the paternal sort. Still, he was a close friend of Lucius and a Death Eater. It was only natural that he would be well aware of this particular scheme.

"We'll just…tell Ron it's his medicine, I guess. Since he's always been sickly," Narcissa said with a shrug. Lucius beamed at his wife as though proud of her skills as a professional deceiver. It would be difficult lying to their son, of course, but it had to be done in order to preserve the family.

That is how Ronald Bilius Weasley became Ronaldus Piscean Malfoy.


	2. Slytherins

_**AN: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts! I really appreciate it and I'm glad so many people are looking forward to this story. Sorry that it took so long for me to update this. I was working on finishing my bachelor's (which I'm finally done with), and I'm also writing an original novel, so it's been difficult until this week to make time for The Second Malfoy. I promise I'll be much better at updating in the future. I hope you enjoy this one!**_

_**Chapter One:**_

_**Slytherins**_

The snake flicked its tongue, staring out of the glass cage it was entrapped in at the boy who seemed desperately fascinated with him. He had seen this child before several times. He was here often with his mother, who came to the store to buy owl treats and peacock feed. Frequently he had expected the child to talk his mother into taking him home, but the boy had never been able to accomplish this feat. It was a shame too, since not many people seemed interested in owning a pet snake nowadays. Maybe this time he'd be able to leave this place where owls looked in on him hungrily and mice and rats were just out of his reach?

"Ron, get away from there," the mother called across the store. The boy jumped, his ears turning red and his expression instantly guilty. Well, it looked like the snake would not be joining the boy today. Losing interest, he wrapped himself up into tight coils and turned his head away from the bright-eyed child.

Outside of the cage, Ronaldus Malfoy turned to his mother and frowned. "Why can't I have a snake, Mum? I'll take good care of it!"

"Because you have a weak stomach and I don't think you could take feeding a snake. Not to mention that the letter said you can bring an owl, cat, or toad. It didn't say anything about snakes." Narcissa Malfoy crossed her arms, a sure sign that she had said her final word and that Ron was not going to win his argument. He hated when she used his health against him like this. All his life, he had been constantly reminded of the fact that he was sickly, not only because he had to take a potion every month for it, but also by the limitations his parents put on him. His twin brother Draco could get away with anything, since he was healthy and strong. However, there were all sorts of restrictions on Ron. He couldn't be outside for longer than an hour, he wasn't allowed to fly on a broom until he was nine years old, and now he apparently couldn't have a snake. It just wasn't fair.

Sighing in resignation, he marched over toward Draco, who was eyeing an eagle owl with interest. It wasn't that he didn't want an owl, of course. Everybody wanted one, because they were incredibly useful. He just wanted to have something that Draco didn't have for once. Not to mention that the snake was the symbol for Slytherin house, which he was sure to be placed in. All Malfoys were.

"Mum wouldn't let you get the snake?" Draco asked, sticking his fingers through the bars of the cage to stoke the owl's feathers.

"Of course not," Ron lamented. "She says I'll get sick while feeding it."

"Feeding it…that would be cool," Draco said with a hint of a grin.

"Then why don't _you_ ask her for a snake? I'm sure she'd let you have one." His words came out sounding bitter and he immediately regretted it. Draco really hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault that Ron was prone to sickness, nor was it his fault that their parents did all they could to keep Ron healthy. "Sorry," he mumbled in an attempt to make amends for his blunder.

Draco shrugged, but Ron still felt bad for snapping at him. As though to try to make his twin feel better, Draco suddenly suggested, "Why don't you look at an owl? This one is pretty awesome. And anyway, they're way better than snakes. They actually do more than sit at the bottom of a cage their entire life. I'd get bored with a pet snake, personally." Ron nodded even though he was certain he would never get tired of the snake he had just been looking at. It was a young boa constrictor, and even though it was small now, he imagined it in a few years time, when it would be around ten feet long. Still, Draco did have a point. Owls could come out of their cages and would probably show more affection than a snake ever could. Seeing Ron nod, Draco said, "What do you say? Want to try out an owl then?"

"Yeah, okay," Ron responded. He knew he would have to settle for an owl anyway, of course, but for some reason, having Draco suggest it made everything seem slightly better. Draco had a tendency to make even the worst situations with their parents easier to manage. He was just naturally talented at getting everyone to see eye-to-eye that way. Or, at least, he was good at getting Ron to cooperate.

"Good. You should get a big one, though, that way it can send you bigger packages." Draco went back to looking at the eagle owl and said, "I'm getting this one for sure."

Slowly, Ron made his way through the rows of owls within the Magical Menagerie. Draco was right about the size, of course. Even though Ron had felt Draco tended to get his way more often than he did, he knew that their parents spoiled both of them. They received so many presents on the holidays and their birthday (and several times in between), that they had never really wanted for anything. They had both grown up rich with the newest toys, best clothing, and tastiest treats. There was no way the Malfoys would allow their children to go to school without sending them tons of packages.

He eventually settled upon a hawk owl, partially because it was so large and partially because he felt like it complimented Draco's. The woman at the counter, Mrs. Menard, took in the two huge owls and rolled her eyes at the twins that she had come to know rather well in the last ten years. "I should have expected they would be getting similar birds," she laughed to Mrs. Malfoy.

"Actually, I wanted a snake," Ron spoke up, "but Mum wouldn't let me have one." He couldn't stop the trace of bitterness in his voice and instantly felt bad when his mother looked upon him with sad eyes. He knew she felt guilty for saying no to Ron. After all, they were really close and it hurt to deny Ron anything (when Narcissa would go out to Diagon Alley, she always asked Ron if he wanted to go. He had actually come to quite enjoy his days with his mother. Draco, on the other hand, tended to prefer spending time with their father Lucius). Quickly, Ron added, "But I like my new owl. I've named him Salazar!"

"Oh, man! I wish I would have thought of that!" Draco suddenly said is dismay. "I named mine Ares!" Ron flashed his twin a triumphant grin, and Mrs. Menard laughed fondly at them and slipped some complimentary owl treats into the bottom of their new pets' cages. Ron had always really liked Mrs. Menard. While the old witch had once told him that she had been a Ravenclaw in her days at Hogwarts, she never minded Ron's and Draco's enthusiasm for Slytherin house. Other shop proprietors like Florean Fortescue and the woman at the stationary store weren't so kind about their passion, choosing to either switch the topic when Hogwarts houses were concerned or openly belittling Slytherin. Not Mrs. Menard. She would just grin happily at them and send them on their way.

Once out in the street again, pushing their little carts that their owl cages were now in (they were too small to carry the cages themselves, and their mother had insisted that they instead wheel them around Diagon Alley), Draco began begging to go to Ollivander's. Of course, that had been the thing they had both wanted to do all day long, but Mrs. Malfoy seemed to be having fun watching them anticipate what their wands would be. "Oh, no, I think it's time for robes," she stated simply. Ron's shoulders slumped in disappointment, and Draco openly groaned. He hated Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions and Ron couldn't really blame him. Standing for robe fittings was a tedious ordeal, not to mention that the women who worked in that shop talked about the most boring things.

Narcissa held the door to the store for her boys and they slumped inside in resignation. There was a surprising lack of people within. Ron had thought that there would at least be a few Hogwarts students needing new robes. _They probably already got theirs,_ he thought. They were actually buying their school things rather late in the summer considering that they had gotten their school letters in June on their birthday. Most of the students had already been here, he figured.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Malfoy!" Madam Malkin herself greeted from the back of the store. She appeared to be putting away a long roll of silvery fabric. "Draco…Ronaldus. Here for Hogwarts, then?" She smiled at them indulgently, but Ron had never gotten the same sort of fond vibe that he had received from Mrs. Menard. Instead, it was as if Madam Malkin was kind to them out of obligation.

"Yes," Narcissa responded. "Is it all right if I leave them here while I pop over to Flourish and Blotts for their books?"

"Absolutely," the store owner responded. Ron didn't mind being left while their mum completed some of the shopping. He found books rather dull, to be honest, and if he could avoid the bookstore, he figured he would be happy. Draco, on the other hand, was not in the least bit satisfied by this latest development.

"Aw, what?" he protested, glaring at his mother angrily.

"I already told you no," she hissed back at him, looking up to Madam Malkin anxiously. The proprietor of the shop was giving them curious looks as she went to pull black material from a roll marked, "Hogwarts." Ron gave her a cold look, daring her to eavesdrop, and surprisingly, she turned away from the three Malfoys nervously.

It would not have been that big of a deal, really, if Draco would have wanted something rather innocent, like a book on hexes and jinxes. But Draco had long since begged his mother for books on the Dark Arts, and Narcissa had yet to give in. Their father had always rather encouraged them to ask about the Dark Arts, but had also pressed them to be secretive about any interest they had in them. Ron himself wasn't overly fond of his dad's tales of illegal curses and prohibited potions, but that was probably because he hated the idea of getting in trouble. It would just be embarrassing to him to get caught doing something wrong. Draco, however, was thicker skinned and didn't seem to mind the idea of breaking the law and running the risk of being found out. The more he had learned about the Dark Arts, the more interested he was in it.

Because Narcissa was not supportive of her sons learning about the Dark Arts on their own, Lucius had denied both children books and things in which they could actually learn how to perform Dark spells "until they were old enough." Draco had been under the impression that now that he was going to school, he would finally be able to get his book.

_No such luck_, Ron thought sympathetically toward his brother, still eyeing Madam Malkin suspiciously. That would be just what the Malfoy family needed; a person sticking their nose into their business and learning that a couple of them had a fascination of illegal practices. Although Ron was thoroughly convinced that his parents were harmless, he knew that they had Dark items within their home. Neither he nor Draco was ever allowed within the basement, where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy brewed potions. For a long time they had both thought that it was because some ingredients were dangerous when ingested alone, but then one day, one of their father's friends came over to pick up a bottle of Veritaserum, a potion that they looked up immediately and learned was illegal in most cases. Narcissa also had a collection of jewelry that she had warned them was dangerous to touch, and within Lucius' study, there were several books that he had once told his sons were off-limits to them.

Perhaps the most curious object within Malfoy Manor was the mask, which Ron was convinced had to be full of Dark secrets. It was obviously some sort of heirloom, or else his dad would not keep it within his study in a glass encasing in pristine conditions. It looked like a skull that had been cleaved into two, so that only the face remained. Around the skull was a jet black hood. He had never had the courage to ask his father what it was or the kinds of effects it had on the person who wore it. Ron imagined that it possessed the wearer into doing evil deeds, like murder, or that it killed whoever tried it on.

Despite his misgivings, though, he was fully confident that his parents were merely collectors and would never use any of their equipment or potions for any wrongdoing. Still, other people might not be so understanding, which was why he couldn't stop himself from bestowing a threatening glance upon Madam Malkin, who rushed off to get her shop assistant as fast as she possibly could once she had laid the material out for their robes. Mrs. Malfoy gave her two children swift hugs and told them to be good, leaving Ron feeling contented and Draco scowling, disgruntled.

"It's not fair," he lamented quietly later as they were being made to stand on top of little footstools so that Madam Malkin and her assistant Sophia could hem the material to the right length. Once again, Madam Malkin looked curious, and Ron clenched his fists in annoyance. Why couldn't Draco just let it go for a while? It wasn't the same thing as his issue with the snake. Ron's pet snake would not have been a bad reflection on their parents. People would have just thought he had a weird interest in reptiles. But Draco's desperate desire to learn more about the Dark Arts really could make Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy look like horrible people. Their sons knew they weren't, but that in itself wasn't enough to stop anyone from investigating and sending them both to Azkaban.

"We'll talk about it later," Ron said warningly. For good measure, he made sure to look pointedly over toward Madam Malkin, who was bent in front of Draco. His twin glanced between the two, and suddenly it all clicked.

"Oh, right," he said dejectedly. He fell silent and for a long time, they merely stood and watched the women work around them. It was surprisingly duller than usual, since today Madam Malkin and Sophia did not seem inclined to gossip. Ron wondered if it was because of what Draco and their mother had been discussing as they had entered the shop. _I bet they're trying to figure it out_, he thought. _I bet they'll instantly start talking about it the moment we leave._

"So, are you two looking forward to Hogwarts, then?" Madam Malkin asked out of the blue. Ron, who was busy thinking of ways to get the shopkeeper and her assistant to believe the Malfoy family were completely innocent, barely heard the question and spent ten seconds trying to figure out just what the woman had asked of him.

"Yes!" Draco exclaimed, happy to have something to talk about finally. Ron was still confused and desperately trying to figure out what to say. "Our parents were going to send us to Durmstrang, but Mum didn't want us to go too far away from home. Hogwarts will do, I suppose."

"Durmstrang? Oh, I agree with your mother. That's way too far away," Sophia replied cheerfully. Ron tried to see what Madam Malkin's reaction would be since Durmstrang was renowned for teaching the Dark Arts. Thankfully, she did not seem to care one way or the other. "Do you know what house you want to be in when you get to Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin, obviously," Ron answered, aware that he sounded quite haughty, but not caring. Madam Malkin indulged him with a knowing laugh; she had been acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy for as long as the twins could remember, and therefore, could have seen the answer coming. Sophia seemed a little taken aback. She was much younger than her employer (she had, in fact, only been working within the shop for two years), and could not have foreseen the answer as well as Madam Malkin did.

"Is that so?" she asked, placing the final pin in Ron's hem of his robes. "Both of you?"

"Well, yes," Draco said with a roll of his eyes. "That's the house our parents were in. It's obviously the best one."

"I don't know about that! Gryffindor is quite like Slytherin. It's a great place to be."

Ron chuckled at Sophia's response and said, "Please! Gryffindor are just a bunch of Slytherin wannabes. That's what Dad says, at least." Sophia looked up at him, her eyes dark and glaring. Ron suddenly felt like he knew which house Sophia had been in. _It figures_, he thought, hoping she didn't give him lopsided robes for being so hateful toward Gryffindor.

Draco, predictably, did not catch on to the glance between his brother and the girl fixing his robes. It wasn't that Draco was dim or anything. He just did not care for other people's feelings as much as Ron did and was, therefore, more apt to miss out on signs that he or Ron had hurt others. "Seriously! Gryffindor is filled with people who were not good enough to be put into Slytherin! OUCH!" Ron's head twisted in Draco's direction, and he saw Madam Malkin pull back her hand quickly, a pin clutched in her grasp.

"Sorry about that, dear," she said, clearly not sorry at all.

"Careful!" Draco hissed at her, and Ron couldn't stop himself from smirking. Draco always made him laugh when he got demanding. Of course, Ron didn't enjoy seeing his brother bully people, but Draco was such a petulant child about certain things that he found his behavior amusing. He was particularly prone to crossing his arms across his chest dramatically and narrowing his icy blue eyes in a way that he thought would send shivers down anyone's spine. Unlike some people, Ron didn't find his posture alarming or intimidating; he just found it silly.

Whether or not Madam Malkin and Sophia found it funny was never discovered by the Malfoy boys. Literally a second after Draco's pin incident, the shop door opened yet again and someone walked in. "Oh," Madam Malkin said in a way that could only mean she was looking forward to the prospect of more money. She dropped the handful of robe that she had in her grasp and made her way to the front of the store. "Hogwarts, dear?"

Curiosity instantly won out on Draco, and he quickly twisted around to get a look at the newest arrival to the shop. He sniggered and gave Ron a meaningful look, tilting his head in the direction of where the customer stood. Not caring if he ruined his robes, Ron turned around as well, ignoring Sophia's sigh of frustration. Being led to the fitting area was a boy who was, undoubtedly, a first year. He was way smaller than both Ron and Draco, which was only made more obvious by the baggy clothing he wore. His glasses were broken down the middle and were very messily being held together by tape.

_Probably poor,_ he thought as he looked back at Draco, holding in the laugh that he was dying to let out. He probably should have felt sympathetic, but he didn't. It wasn't his fault the boy's family couldn't afford better clothing. He looked absolutely ridiculous!

"Hold still, please," Sophia said in exasperation. Ron turned back around and glanced at the woman fitting him. Her nostrils were flared with repressed rage, and her fingers were shaking as she reached for her wand to cast the Sewing Charm she was about to place on his clothing. Ron only felt slightly guilty.

The new boy was placed on a stool next to Ron and Sophia quickly switched from working on his robes to tend to the other kid. Ron didn't mind. The rest of his fitting could be done with magic and he didn't need to stand there with her picking at his hems anymore, clearly hating her patron. Instead, he watched as a needle and thread very quickly worked their way through the fabric.

"So are _you_ going to Hogwarts too?" Draco asked, stressing the word "you" as if disbelieving that a kid as puny and unfashionable could ever get into Hogwarts. The boy jumped at the sound of the question being addressed to him and looked at Draco uncertainly. Ron wondered if he was smart enough to have caught on to Draco's clear distaste of him, but he didn't seem to.

"Erm…yes," he replied timidly.

Now fully taking pity on the boy, Ron decided to speak to him a little less condescendingly. Clearly he wasn't aware of how ridiculous he looked. "Us too…our mother is getting our books right now. I think we'll be looking at wands next."

"Are you twins?" the boy asked, looking from Draco to Ron. Draco scoffed at his stupidity, but Ron could see why the kid would be confused. After all, he and Draco weren't identical. Draco was paler, Ron was taller. Draco had very pale, blonde hair, while Ron's was more of a darker, strawberry blonde. Draco's nose was very small and button-like, while Ron's was long and slender. Ron had freckles, and Draco's skin was flawless. Yes, it was very easy to see the differences between the two of them when you really looked.

"Yeah, we are," he answered.

"Obviously," Draco added.

"Right," the boy said, watching Madam Malkin cast her Sewing Charm on Draco's robes in amazement. _Oh, Merlin, he's a Muggleborn too,_ Ron thought in annoyance. Nobody who was pureblood or halfblood would ever look that enthralled at the sight of magic…they'd be too used to it to care.

It wasn't that Ron hated Muggleborns. Actually, he found them quite fascinating, much more, he was sure, than his family would want him to. It was just that he had interacted with them so rarely in the past that he was certain they would not be able to find anything else to talk about. This kid undoubtedly knew very little about the wizarding world, and he knew the Muggle world based only on what he had seen from his window of his bedroom, where there was a view of a freeway in the distance.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Draco asked without realizing the expression on the boy's face. Ron groaned slightly, not really relishing the idea of explaining Quidditch to someone. It was a rather difficult game, and he didn't think he had the patience to stand here at length and try to do the sport justice to someone from the Muggle world. He just wouldn't understand.

"Er…no," the boy answered lamely. He didn't inquire as to what it was, but just stood there awkwardly as Sophia pulled the bottom of his robes up for hemming.

"That's a shame," Draco replied. "We're going to force Mum to take us to Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at brooms…aren't we, Ron?"

"That's the plan," Ron said. A part of him rather hoped the boy didn't think they were spoiled. It didn't matter what the shopkeepers thought of them, as they didn't have to see them every day. This kid was someone they would be attending school with and, poor or not, Ron didn't want to make enemies already. What if this boy ended up being a Slytherin too?

"Sounds fun," the boy replied lamely.

"I want to get good enough to play on the House Team," Draco continued to blab on. "Ron can't, though, since he's sickly."

The boy turned his head in Ron's direction, and he instantly wished Draco wouldn't have said anything. The kid was now looking at him with the deepest sympathy. He tried to wave it off, as though being so sick that you had to take potions for it monthly was no big deal. "I like watching it anyway," he said dismissively. "Besides, I don't think I'd be very good. I'd probably get really nervous and mess up a bunch." The boy nodded as though that made sense, but Ron still got the impression that he had no idea what Quidditch was or how one could mess up a match.

"What house do you want to be in?" Draco questioned.

"Er…I don't know." The boy looked around nervously, seeming to try to find an answer within the shop. Ron decided to be helpful.

"We're going to be in Slytherin. Our whole family's been there."

"Yeah…I'd die if I were put into Hufflepuff, wouldn't you, Ron?"

Sophia made and annoyed sort of cough and Ron glanced at her in exasperation. He was fully convinced the woman simply hated Slytherin. "Definitely," Ron replied. The boy next to him turned a sickly shade of green, and Ron suddenly imagined that the boy was dreading being sorted, especially if he ended up in Hufflepuff. It wouldn't surprise him, though. His father had always told him that people who were put into Hufflepuff were the idiots, and this kid certainly seemed very ill informed, even for a Muggle.

"Do you see that guy outside? Look at how enormous he is!" Draco exclaimed uncouthly. Ron turned again, this time actually stepping off the stool, because his needle and thread seemed to be done with their work. Out in the street was an enormous man with two ice cream cones, waving and pointing at the boy with them.

"That's Hagrid," he explained knowledgably. "He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

"Oh!" Draco and Ron replied, both of them unable to keep from wrinkling their noses in disgust. Their mother had lamented many a time about how creepy and overly friendly he was with students. Their father, meanwhile, claimed that he was incredibly dull witted and was barely smart enough to do his job, let alone work at a school.

"Are you with him?" Draco asked, still wrinkling his nose and watching his needle and thread work on his sleeves. "Where are your parents?"

"They died," the boy said. It came as a shock, of course. How often did you meet someone who had dead parents? What was more surprising than the truth, though, was how the boy had replied to Draco. He seemed like a different kid. Gone was the boy who meekly responded to their inquiries. In his place was a boy who seemed offended at Draco's rudely stated question and wasn't afraid to confront him about it.

"Were they like us?" Ron decided to ask to ease the tension.

"If you mean magical, yes, they were," he replied coldly. Ron felt stung and held up his hands defensively. Draco didn't seem to notice that any sort of altercation had taken place. He grinned in relief at the sight of his needle and thread retreating away from him to a box on the floor.

"All done!" Madam Malkin said, taking their robes. "I'll make more of these and send them, your hats, and your cloaks to your parents' home. You'll get your ties for your houses when you're sorted."

Draco rolled his eyes as they waved goodbye to the boy, who was still on the stool. Still annoyed with them, he didn't wave back, but looked straight ahead at a case displaying a fur lined cloak.

Their mother was still getting their books, so they headed in the direction of Flourish and Blotts very slowly, laden with their school supplies and owls. Ron longed to discuss the boy in the shop and his reaction to the questions about his parents, but Draco's mind had already flitted from their conversation. "She'll send our ties when we get sorted. We're obviously Slytherins, why doesn't she just give them to us now?"

Ron laughed silently to himself. It was so much like Draco to just brush off the sort of discussion they had just had in favor of discussing himself. The weird thing was, he really loved that about his brother. It always made for interesting turns of events. "Because she obviously hates Slytherins!" Ron said, prompting a huge rant from his brother about how ridiculous people could be about their house. All the while, Ron smiled and nodded emphatically, egging Draco on.

School, Ron was certain, was going to be incredibly fun.

_**AN: What did you think? Did Ron like he was a Malfoy? Could you still see traces of Ronald Weasley in Ronaldus Malfoy? If I did something you dislike (or if I did something you love, of course), please let me know in a review!**_


	3. Brothers

_**Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, story alerts, and author alerts! I'd really like more reviews, so feel free to be honest with how you feel I'm doing. I know this chapter is very long, but I hope you enjoy.**_

_**Chapter Two:**_

_**Brothers**_

Ron sat upon his bed in his room, rolling his new wand between his fingers, looking down on it in distaste. After getting fitted for their robes, Narcissa had led him and Draco to Ollivander's. Draco had gotten a cool wand – hawthorn and dragon heartstring – but Ron was quite disappointed with his own. Fourteen inches long, Ron's wand was made of willow and unicorn hair. _Unicorn hair_. Ron could not think of a more girly or weak substance that his wand could possibly be made of.

He probably would not have been so disappointed with it had Lucius not always bragged about his dragon heartstring cored wand. He had always imagined that he would receive something similar to his father like Draco had, but apparently he was not worthy of it. Narcissa had tried to make him feel better by telling him that her wand had unicorn hair in it too, but Ron felt she only proved his point. Sure, it was fine for his mother, a _girl_, to use unicorn hair in her magic. For Ron, it was just embarrassing.

The sound of someone dragging something very heavy caught his attention away from his wand, and Ron saw with mild surprise that Draco was dragging both of their trunks down the hallway. He turned into Ron's room, depositing the heavy trunk with a sigh and said, "Here you go…Mum says it's best if we start packing. I have Dobby in my room getting all of my things in order. What are doing?" He eyed Ron with interest and he knew instantly that Draco had immediately caught on to the fact that he was in a rather sullen mood.

"Nothing," Ron said in a nearly cheerful voice. He looked back down at his wand for the briefest of seconds, planning on jumping to his feet to start preparing for tomorrow, but Draco's voice halted him.

"You're still not on about that wand, are you?" he questioned, looking at the stick in Ron's hand warily. "It's not that big a deal that you got unicorn hair! I don't understand why you cared so much about that."

"Because it's not fair!" Ron lamented, throwing his wand upon the pillow at the top of the bed and standing to face Draco. "I've always thought I would get dragon heartstring like Dad, but instead I got unicorn hair. It's embarrassing!"

"Mum's got unicorn hair! I wouldn't have been embarrassed to get it! You can't plan these sorts of things, Ron. It's like Mr. Ollivander says…the wand chooses the wizard. This wand chose you for a reason, and you should be proud of it. It's not like you had any choice in the matter anyway." Draco glared at Ron, crossing his arms huffily. He was clearly annoyed that Ron couldn't just appreciate what he had, but Ron was not going to budge in his resentment of his wand. It was easy for his brother to say that it wasn't a big deal and that Ron should accept what had been given to him, because Draco had always gotten his way. Ron, however, felt like he never got his.

"Whatever," he said as he rolled his eyes and crossing his room to the trunk Draco had dragged in.

Draco sighed and said, "Dad doesn't mind that you got unicorn hair, you know. He actually says your wand rounds out the family nicely." When Ron refused to respond, he added, "Look, don't worry about it. Tomorrow we go to Hogwarts and actually get to learn magic with our own wands! Isn't that exciting?"

It was hard not to smile at the prospect. Ever since they were five years old, Narcissa had her sons practice simple spells (like the Levitation Charm and the Disarming Spell) on her wand. Ron had found out a couple of years ago that it was actually illegal to teach children spells before they were of school age, but their mother, for whatever reason, was willing to take the risk. Their spellwork was never very effective since Narcissa's wand was very loyal to her, but there had always been the hope that someday they would get to perform the spells with their own wands. Now that Draco mentioned it, Ron found it hard not to let that little bubble of excitement over attending Hogwarts that had been growing steadily in the pit of his stomach burst.

"It is," Ron finally agreed after a moment's contemplation. Draco grinned largely and Ron suddenly felt oddly relieved. Even though he was stuck with the unicorn hair wand he knew that it was worth having. _It's better to have a wand than to not have one and wish you did,_ he told himself. Draco seemed to sense that Ron was feeling better about the wand. He offered one more satisfied smile then left the room, all the while calling Dobby's name bossily, no doubt just realizing that he had forgotten to tell the elf to prepare something for packing.

Ron shook his head at his brother with a slight smirk upon his face and took to emptying his clothes drawers. It took a matter of ten minutes to track everything down. Finally, he had thrown all his shirts, pants, socks, underwear, and shoes (for he had three pairs) into the bottom of his trunk. Most new wizards or witches probably would have marveled at how much room was still left within the trunk after having thrown so many garments into it, but not Ron. The novelty of magic had long since worn off, and he knew for a fact that his trunk was bewitched to fit everything he needed to put within it.

He next turned to shoving his schoolbooks within the trunk. He nearly had them all, but for some reason he couldn't find his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. It had been the only book he had really found himself interested in and so he had taken to carrying it around the house with him, reading it during mealtimes and in the evening when the family gathered in the sitting room and spent time together. Now, he wasn't quite sure where it could be.

"Dobby!" he called out in a similarly bossy tone to the one that Draco always adopted when speaking to the house elf. With a small pop, Dobby materialized within Ron's room, a silver and green sock clutched in his hand. Clearly he had been on an errand for Draco when Ron had called him.

"Yes, sir?" Dobby asked obediently. His large, orb-like eyes shone in anticipation.

"Have you seen my Defense book? It's called _The Dark Forces._" Ron knew that Dobby wandered the home more than any of its other occupants and figured that he would have seen it sooner than anyone else would have. From the apprehensive look on Dobby's face, though, Ron suddenly became uncertain.

"Yes, sir, Dobby has," he said anxiously. "Master Ronaldus has been leaving it in his father's study room. When Master called Ronaldus to Master's chamber the other day, Ronaldus has been leaving it behind!" Realization struck Ron as he suddenly remembered. His dad had called him in the study to ask him how he was feeling. Narcissa had told Lucius that Ron had looked a bit peaky in Diagon Alley (although he hadn't really felt all that horrible) and so his father had merely wanted to check up on him. He must have brought _The Dark Forces_ into the room when he had been called and simply left it there.

"Can you go get it for me?" he asked, although he didn't really intend it as a question, but more as an order. Like his brother and parents, Ron firmly believed that the house elf was beneath him both in status and intelligence. Because of this, house elves were servants and nothing more, although Ron didn't like how his father often lost his temper with Dobby and shouted at him all the time. It did not seem wholly right for whatever reason.

"Sir must forgive me," Dobby said weakly. "Dobby has been forbidden to go into Master's study room. Master says Dobby should keep his long nose out of his business, sir." Ron rolled his eyes which caused Dobby to flinch, but that only made Ron roll his eyes more. It figured that the one time that he needed the elf to get something out of his father's study for him would just happen to be the one time that Dobby was ordered to stay out of it.

"Fine then. I'll get it," Ron told the elf, who continued to flinch at his clear frustration. Unable to handle any more fearful behavior from Dobby, Ron ordered, "Go back to Draco!" With a little pop Dobby disappeared. Ron breathed a sigh of relief then strode from the room, intent upon getting back his book.

When he reached Lucius' study Ron knocked upon the door, certain that if Dobby was told to stay out his father was probably working on some very important business. When no one answered, however, curiosity won over him and he slowly opened the door and peered inside. Nobody was within the room. He could see his book sitting on a chair in front of his father's desk, so he slowly tiptoed into the room and snatched it into his grasp.

He was just about to leave when something caught his attention. There it was, the mysterious mask and hood encased in glass upon the mantle over the fireplace. For the billionth time in his life, he pondered where it had come from and how his father had come to possess it. Ron forgot his mission to pack his trunk, his desire to have everything ready for tomorrow morning. Instead he slowly walked over to the fireplace, dropped his book on the floor, and lifted the heavy glass up off the mantle. There was a little door upon the top of the glass, and as soon as Ron had set it down carefully upon the surface of Lucius' desk, Ron opened it.

Licking his lips greedily, he stared down on the top of the hood. He wanted to touch the fabric. Ron had never done that before and had always wondered what would happen if he did. He didn't know why he was taking such a chance. His parents collected dark objects, and if this thing were possessed, it could very easily take him too. Still, his curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly reached his fingers into the case in order to touch the silky fabric within.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked from behind him. Ron jumped as though he had been scalded by something and took several steps back, ignoring the slightly disappointed feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't gotten to touch it. However that was the least of his worries. Standing in the doorway was his father and he did not look pleased.

"I…came in here to…get my book," Ron said lamely, looking down at _The Dark Forces_, which was lying open on the hearth.

"Yes, it certainly looks like it," Lucius replied coldly. Ron had never heard his father speak to either of his children that way before, and he couldn't help but drop his gaze from Lucius' face in shame. Quick as a flash, Lucius swept across the room and shut the lid on the glass casing. "Take your book and go," he ordered, not bothering to turn around and look at his son.

"Dad, I'm sorr-"

"GO!"

Ron snatched up his book and practically ran from the room, his heart pounding and his stomach churning. The mask must have been very dangerous for his father to have yelled at him like that. However, the potential peril he had just put himself in was nothing compared to what he'd just put his father through. He and Lucius had never really gotten along as well as Draco and Lucius, and now he had gone and shown his dad that he could not be trusted. He would never, ever see Ron in the same light he saw Draco, especially after today.

Sighing resolutely and trying hard not to cry, Ron headed back to his room and threw the book as hard as he could into his trunk. Then he set to snatching up the rest of his things and packing them very roughly.

If his father had been that mad at him, he had an odd way of showing it. The next day, they had all traveled bright and early to King's Cross Station in London. It had been a very uncomfortable walk through the train station, since it was the closest the twins had ever actually come to Muggles, and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy kept looking down their noses at the bustling people in dislike. Ron would have usually felt embarrassed about his parents' lack of tact, but he was still so ashamed that he did or said nothing about it.

Once they were on Platform 9 ¾, his father suddenly turned to them both. He pulled Draco into a hug and said, "Be good. We'll miss you," then did the same for Ron, who felt utterly bewildered about such blatant signs of affection. He really didn't think he deserved them after what he had done yesterday, yet when he looked into Lucius' eyes, he was surprised to see that he sincerely looked like he would miss Ron.

"I'll miss you too, Dad," Ron said in return. Lucius smiled brightly, his eyes suddenly watering so much that he had to stand and turn away from them. Was he going to cry?

Narcissa hugged him next and said, "Make sure to write us as soon as you're in your dormitory to tell us if you got into Slytherin, alright?" Ron nodded, although he didn't see how he could not make it into Slytherin or why his mother thought it was a possibility that he could be placed elsewhere.

They didn't dawdle too long on the platform. It was awkward saying goodbye to their parents, especially when their father seemed so prone to crying at the moment. They alighted upon a set of steps on the very back carriage of the Hogwarts Express, pulled their trunks in after them, waved goodbye, and immediately set to finding themselves some prime seats.

"That was weird," Ron said as soon as they were out of their parents' vicinity.

"Yeah," Draco replied distractedly. "I wonder where Crabbe and Goyle are going to be?"

"They'll probably get on the wrong train, as thick as they are," Ron joked. Draco laughed out loud as he dragged his trunk into an empty compartment. From the window, they could see their parents staring up into the windows of the carriage as though trying to figure out where their boys had seated themselves.

"Ugh…I wish they would just go already," Draco said. Narcissa spotted him and began waving frantically, though they couldn't see her very well through a crowd of red-headed people who had just rushed by in front of her.

"I didn't think Dad would say anything to me," Ron said, half in shame and half in relief.

"Why?"

Ron recounted the story of the day previous. Draco listened intently, and when Ron was done actually smirked and shrugged. "He's caught me looking at that mask before. It's no big deal."

"Really? Did he yell at you too?"

"Of course," Draco said. "I mean, I was going through his things. That's probably why he was so upset anyway. He was fine after a day or so when I did it, so you shouldn't be surprised that he didn't stay angry with you."

"Oh," Ron said. He felt suddenly guilty for thinking his dad would have treated him any differently than he did Draco. It was just that he had always felt certain that Lucius preferred Draco and allowed him to get his way more often. Maybe he was mistaken in that? What if his father had always treated them as equally as he could? He probably had, but Ron had been too stupid to realize that _he_ was different, because he was sick.

"There you lot are," said a surprisingly deep voice. Ron looked up at the entrant and offered as nice of a smile as he could manage. Gregory Goyle stood in the frame of the doorway, as tall as a fourteen year old, though he was only eleven. He seemed to be going through puberty early, because his face already looked as though it was thinning out, and Ron could swear he could see a bit of facial hair on his chin.

Behind him stood Vincent Crabbe, who Ron liked even less than Goyle. He was not as tall as his companion, but definitely wider with bigger, beefier arms. He was not as intelligent as the Malfoys or Goyle, which was unfortunate, because he tended to talk a great deal more than any of them. It was tedious having to hear about things like how much money Crabbe's father made and how stupid Muggles were, because these were the only topics that he seemed to be able to discuss at length.

The boys shuffled into the room, and Ron and Draco had to scoot over as far as they could to allow for the bigger boys to sit beside them. Ron was grateful that he got to sit next to Goyle, as he was thinner. It looked like Crabbe's girth was positively squashing Draco against the window.

"Excited?" Ron finally asked, looking across to Crabbe, who was already taking out a chocolate frog and stuffing it into his mouth.

"Yeah, of course," he said through the mouthful of chocolate. "Dad says the Slytherin common room is in the dungeon under the lake so it glows green! He showed me pictures and told me about how they used to pretend to torture Muggles down there in his day." Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hated how Crabbe did that. He would change a perfectly innocent topic like going to Hogwarts into talking about hurting Muggles. Draco, who was shoving some of Crabbe's fat rolls away from him, looked disgusted too, but Ron wasn't sure whether it was the topic or Crabbe's fat that was grossing him out so much.

"What about you?" Ron said, looking to Goyle who was biting his nails anxiously.

"Yeah, I'm a fair bit excited," he said, and left it at that.

There was a sudden lurch, and they all gripped their seats as the train began to slowly roll forward. Ron looked out of the window, and sure enough, his parents were still standing there, staring at them lovingly. Ron waved to his mother who was openly crying, and then to his father who was struggling not to cry. Draco snorted at their appearance and looked at Ron in a look that asked, "can you believe them?" Ron shook his head in bemusement and turned back to the rest of the occupants in the carriage.

"We're both looking forward to it too, obviously," he told Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle nodded and began biting his nails some more, while Crabbe immediately launched into telling them all the Dark Spells he wanted to learn.

_Why am I friends with this guy?_ Ron asked himself as Crabbe showed them a book that his Dad had bought him on hexes. "Of course, I haven't read it, because reading is boring. It would be neat to use them on some Mudbloods, though, right?" He looked specifically to Draco for approval, as though what Draco thought of his prejudice really mattered. All Draco said was, "Sure," in a very awkward tone while looking at Ron as though he wanted to jump off the train in order to get away from Crabbe's tediousness.

An hour and a half into the journey Ron couldn't stand it anymore. Standing up, he told them all that he would find the food trolley and get them something if they gave him money. He took their orders expertly, gave Draco a look of deepest sympathy, then positively ran away from the compartment, glad that he had found a way to escape.

He nearly put two carriage's worth of distance between himself and the compartment before breathing a sigh of relief. Ron would certainly take his time in going back to them. He wasn't sure how he was going to put off the inevitable, but he'd find a way. This train, after all, was full of people to talk to. It would be difficult to not get distracted.

Ron found his diversion on the floor in the very next compartment he entered. A girl who was about his age was crawling around on the floor, looking under cracks in doorways. She had very big, bushy hair and was rather small. Already in her Hogwarts robes, Ron knew she was probably a Muggleborn. Only someone who had not grown up surrounded by magic could possibly be so excited to go as to already have put their robes on at this point in the journey north to Hogwarts.

He watched her crawl around in the hallway for a few minutes before he spoke. "Clearly you've never been on a train before," he said, crossing his arms in mock smugness and smirking down at her. The girl looked up him, startled at first, then offering him a small smile. She had buck-teeth that were tad unattractive, but Ron supposed nobody was perfect.

"Of course I have," she replied airily, resuming her search for whatever she had lost on the floor. "I'm starting a new trend." Ron laughed silently to himself, glad that this wasn't the sort of girl who took things too seriously.

"What are you looking for?"

"A toad," she answered, sitting up to peek in a window to a compartment. The occupants within (who had to have been at least fifteen years old) looked at her like she was insane.

"A toad?" Ron replied, once again wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Why on earth would you get a toad?"

"I didn't," she answered. "It's for a boy named Neville. His toad Trevor took off as soon as he got on the train, so he, Harry Potter, and I are looking for him."

At first, the words "Harry Potter" did not register at Ron. He was too amused and distracted at the girl crawling down the corridor that he didn't notice that she had just said the name of the most famous young wizard of all time. Suddenly, realization dawned on him, though, and he hastily said (perhaps a bit too frantically), "Harry Potter? THE Harry Potter?"

"Yep," the girl replied nonchalantly. Ron stared at her incredulously. How could she not be more excited than this? Then it occurred to him…she was probably a Muggleborn. She had no idea who Harry Potter really was or why he was so famous.

"Do you even know who he is?" Ron snapped at her. She stood up fully now, staring up into his face and giving an, "are you kidding me?" sort of look.

"Of course I know who he is. He beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby. I've read all about him." Ron continued to stare at her, transfixed by how utterly indifferent she was to being on speaking terms with Harry Potter. He couldn't help but mouth mutely at her, wishing he could ask her how on earth she was so calm, why she was wasting her time searching for a toad when she could be spending her time with the most famous wizard of all time, and whether or not she would introduce them, but he couldn't utter a syllable.

As though reading his mind, the girl rolled her eyes and asked, "Do you want to meet him?"

"Of course!" he replied anxiously.

"Alright then," she said. She turned to go, but then quickly stopped and spun back around to say something else. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger." The girl held her hand out to him as if to shake his, and he eyed it warily. Ron was certain that she was Muggleborn, which was something he had always been taught to stay away from. After all, hadn't she said that she knew who Harry Potter was, because she had read all about him? It seemed strange to be on speaking terms with someone who only knew all the things that he knew naturally just because she had read about them.

Still, his natural curiosity for Muggles and his great desire to meet the Boy Who Lived won over him and he said, "Ronaldus Malfoy. Just call me Ron." He took her hand and shook it gently, feeling an odd sort of exhilaration about having made a Muggleborn friend. Before he could release her hand, however, she gripped his tightly, and dragged him down the corridor roughly.

He didn't have time to ask where she was taking him or to even tell her it was nice to meet her. Within seconds, she was pulling him into a compartment, where a rather chubby boy who must have been Neville instantly stood up and asked, "Did you find Trevor?"

"No, but I found Ronaldus," Hermione said with a pleased smile, indicating Ron who was standing rather awkwardly in the entrance to the compartment.

"Ron," he corrected automatically, looking at Neville apprehensively, then turning his attention to the other boy in the tiny room. He couldn't believe his eyes. Sitting within the compartment was the boy whom he and Draco had talked with in Madam Malkin's. He was looking up at Ron as though he also could not believe his eyes. Hermione looked between the two of them as though trying to figure out exactly what they were both thinking. "_You're_ Harry Potter?" he asked, his eyes naturally flicking upward toward the scar on his forehead.

"Yeah," Harry replied as he rubbed his hair down to cover the scar.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Ron said quickly, sensing that Harry was still angry with him over what he had said in Diagon Alley about his parents. "I didn't know who you were! I mean, even if I did, it would still be wrong…I just…I was curious and we were in the shop for a long time and I was just trying to make conversation-"

"It's alright, don't worry about it," Harry said. Ron immediately stopped talking and his ears went red from embarrassment.

"You two already know each other?" Hermione asked with a confused expression. "I thought you'd never met Harry before?"

"I didn't know I had." He felt mortified. If he had known that the scrawny, poorly dressed boy in the shop had actually been Harry Potter, he would have never said anything about his parents' blood status. He would have certainly shut Draco up too. Feeling too embarrassed to stay any longer (actually, he felt even more miserable than he had been when he had been stuck with Crabbe and Goyle), Ron turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Hermione suddenly asked as she took a seat next to Neville. "At least stay for a bit."

Ron looked to Harry, as though asking permission to stay. He scooted over in his seat and looked at him meaningfully. Sighing in resignation, Ron plopped himself down next to him, wishing there was some way he could go back in time and tell himself not to say anything stupid in front of the boy in the shop. Or, better yet, talk his mother into taking them wand shopping first.

There was an awkward silence which seemed to stretch on for ages. Then, very suddenly, Harry asked, "Where's your twin?"

Ron jumped at the sound of his voice. Hermione gasped and said, "You're a twin? Are you identical or fraternal?"

"Erm…we're not identical, no. I left him with some of our friends." He looked at Harry uncomfortably, then added, "I kind of hate them, actually. I had to get out of there, so I told them I was going to look for the food trolley."

"Why do you hate your friends?" Neville asked, still looking miserable over his lost toad.

"We're only friends with them, because my Dad is friends with their dads. They're kind of…thick."

"My Great Uncle Algie says I'm thick," Neville said in response. Although his eyes were still darting around the compartment for the ever elusive Trevor, Ron could tell he felt ashamed of himself for whatever reason. He didn't know what to say back. How could he possibly be able to cheer up a kid whom he had just met?

Hermione seemed better prepared. "You're not thick, Neville. You'll show him."

Neville smiled at her modestly. "But I don't know any magic at all, even though I've been raised with it. I just know I'm going to go home for Christmas and he's going to be disappointed…as will my Gran."

"Nobody knows any magic going in!" Hermione said, trying to reassure him. Next to Ron, Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Apparently he'd been worried about his magical abilities as well. "We're all beginners. That's what's so great about Hogwarts, Neville."

"So, you're telling me that none of you have practiced spells?" Neville looked from Harry, to Hermione, then finally to Ron. Harry shook his head innocently, showing Neville that he would be just as far behind everyone else as he was. Hermione bit her lip anxiously and Ron outright avoided Neville's gaze. Hermione, who Ron still figured was a Muggleborn, had probably been really antsy to start practicing magic as soon as she could. Meanwhile, Ron had been at it for years.

"Well," Hermione finally said, "you can't really blame me for trying, can you?"

"And I couldn't help it," Ron added. He didn't elaborate that his own mother had been giving him lessons, but hoped that everyone would assume that it was because he was just as curious about magic as Hermione was. His answer seemed to be satisfactory, because no one seemed inclined to question him. Hearing this news, though, seemed to deflate what little confidence Harry had earned at learning Neville had never done magic. Half of the people in the compartment were already experienced at performing spells, which was obviously something he had not wanted to hear.

"Ugh, I'm going to be rubbish!" Neville lamented, covering his face with his hands.

"Don't be silly!" Hermione said. "I only started practicing spells because I'd read through all the books and I was too excited to wait!" This didn't help Neville. He stood up in resignation and mumbled that he was going to go out in the hall and look for Trevor some more. They all watched him go, Hermione eyeing him sadly. "Oh dear…I didn't mean to make him feel worse!"

"Did you really read all your schoolbooks already?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione with a face that clearly said that she was mental.

"Well…yes," she replied.

"Blimey," Ron said. He was unable to contain himself. Hermione had to have only gotten her letter a month and a half ago at the least, and all of those books were fairly thick. How in the world she had managed to read them all in that short span of time, he didn't know.

"How many have you two read?" she asked.

"None," Harry and Ron answered in unison.

"Seriously? And you were practicing magic without them? I don't see how that can be done! I mean, the books tend to go on for pages about proper pronunciation and wand movements. How did you do that?" She was looking at Ron with a sort of feverish frenzy. _Maybe she is mental_, Ron thought, trying hard to avoid her now creepily piercing gaze.

"I skimmed it," he lied smoothly. Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms angrily. "You don't believe me? I'll prove it," Ron said. Hermione's eyebrows quirked upward in disbelief as Ron pulled out his much hated wand. _Please don't fail me_, he thought toward it. Pointing it suddenly at Harry's face, he said, "_Reparo!_" The glasses on Harry's face (which had been held together at the bridge of his nose by some tape) magically repaired themselves.

Harry flinched slightly as though expecting pain, but when none came he took off his glasses and marveled at Ron's spellwork. "Brilliant!" he said with a grin. Hermione was gaping at him, obviously impressed.

"Let's see your work," he replied a little arrogantly, tossing his wand up expertly, catching it in his hand, and slipping it back in his pocket. He knew Hermione would want to prove herself and was satisfied when she removed her own wand from the inside of her robes. Her eyes glanced around for something – anything – to bewitch. Finally, she pointed her wand toward the padlock on a large snowy owl's cage within the compartment and said, "_Alohomora!"_

There was a soft click as the lock on the cage was undone and the door swung open. The owl looked like it was about to stretch its wings and fly out, but Harry hastily jumped up and shut the door, whispering, "No, stay in there, Hedwig." The owl looked disappointed, but nibbled at Harry's fingers affectionately as the lock clicked back into place. "Just a little bit longer and you can fly all you want."

"I still don't see how you could have learned the Repairing Charm without reading the text. There are some very explicit instructions in that chapter that you would have missed if you just skimmed them." Hermione's eyes were narrowed as she spoke which caused Ron to squirm slightly in his seat. He knew that she was on to him and chances were that she wouldn't like the truth. Nonetheless he felt like he could trust Harry and Hermione now, even if he had only known them for a mere half an hour.

"Alright, I'll tell you," Ron said in exasperation. "But don't tell anyone and promise you won't be too angry." Hermione nodded and her eyes gleamed in fascination, as though she were about to learn how to work a Muggle magic trick. Harry nodded as well, but his eyes were slightly more anxious. Ron knew that his answer was only going to make Harry more nervous about beginning Hogwarts, but maybe if he explained that not every person from a wizard family had been experienced with spells before going to school he'd be a little more comfortable? "My Mum may or may not have taught Draco and I how to do some basic spells on her wand when we were younger."

Just as expected, Harry's head seemed to drop in misery and Hermione's eyes went round as she digested this new nugget of information. "So…all the wizard-raised children will be ahead of Neville and me won't they?" Harry replied, looking so thoroughly depressed that he was actually bringing Ron's good mood down with him. He opened his mouth to argue that they probably wouldn't, that his mother was just unusual, but Hermione beat him to it.

"They shouldn't be, seeing as how practicing before school age is illegal." She sounded as though she was accusing Ron of cheating on a test.

"Well, I couldn't help that my Mum was willing to take the risk! I suppose she just wanted us to be prepared for when we started school."

"Prepared! None of the Muggleborns are prepared, Harry and Neville aren't prepared! You and your brother have an unfair advantage!" Hermione crossed her arms huffily again as she sat back into her seat and stuck her nose up in the air. Ron could have sworn that she wasn't so much as angry about the fact that his mother had done something illegal as she was at the prospect of not being the best in the class.

"So do you!" Harry suddenly argued in Ron's defense. "You just admitted to us that you couldn't help yourself and practiced at home! Isn't that illegal, Hermione?" Ron openly laughed out loud and watched with glee as Hermione's face turned pink and she lost her confident, rule-abiding posture. Harry and Ron exchanged grins with one another. He could tell he was going to like Harry a great deal, especially if Harry was capable of seeing eye-to-eye with him like this all the time.

They were momentarily interrupted by the arrival of the food trolley. "Oh, that's right!" Ron said as he stood up to get a better look of the sweets that were on the cart. "I told Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle that I was going to get food for everyone."

"Well, just stay for a few minutes to eat and then bring them their food," Harry suggested.

After getting everything he, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had wanted, Ron took a seat, gnawing on a cauldron cake and discussing his favorite types of sweets. If there was anything Ron knew a great deal about, it was food. It had always rather amazed his parents, since nobody else in the family had his appetite, but Ron had always assumed it was because he was a bit taller than Draco, so he needed more. Harry told him all about how he hadn't grown up in the wizard world at all so he didn't know the different wizard treats, so he jumped at the opportunity to explain them to both Harry and Hermione.

"Don't eat Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," he said while holding up Crabbe's box to show them what they looked like. "I got a vomit flavored one once and I haven't been the same since." He shuddered at the thought of it and Hermione let out a little giggle at how ridiculous he looked.

"I wonder where Neville is," Harry suddenly asked. He definitely had been gone for some time.

Hermione looked at the door worriedly and said, "I better go look for him. Hopefully he didn't get lost wherever Trevor is."

"I better go too," Ron said in resignation, standing and grabbing all the sweets he had bought for his brother and friends. "They'll be starving by now. I think I took all of their money, too, so if the trolley gets back to them, they won't be able to get anything to eat." Harry nodded, a bit sad that he was about to be left alone, but Ron quickly said, "We'll meet up at school tomorrow probably. Don't worry. Next time I'll have my brother with me too. I'm sure he'd be anxious to actually meet you properly." Harry nodded, but for some reason seemed more somber at the idea of meeting up with Draco.

"Oh! Hi there!" Hermione suddenly said to someone out in the hallway. Ron turned around expecting to see Neville, but was shocked to see Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all standing on the threshold to the compartment, looking in eagerly.

"Hello," Draco said. He looked at Ron a little quizzically. "What are you doing here?"

"Erm…chatting," Ron replied, looking at Hermione, then back at Harry.

"With Harry Potter?" Draco asked, looking behind Ron eagerly at Harry, whose scar was visible on his forehead due to his unruly hair choosing not to stay flat. His brother gawked at Harry and Ron suddenly felt embarrassed.

"Er, Draco, this is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger." Ron indicated to his two companions, then added, "There was also a boy named Neville…something…"

"Longbottom," Hermione quickly said.

"Right, Neville Longbottom, but he's looking for his toad somewhere."

"_Neville Longbottom_?" Draco asked, looking rather disgusted as he shook Harry's hand then turned to Hermione. Ron couldn't understand why. Yes, he thought he could recognize Neville from some outings to Diagon Alley, but other than that, he was positive he didn't know anything about him. "Granger?" Draco now said while shaking Hermione's hand. "Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger? Our Dad's part of his potions society."

"Erm, I don't think so," Hermione said uncertainly. "My parents are Muggles, so-"

"_Muggles?_" Draco was wearing that same disgusted look he gave as soon as he had found out Neville Longbottom had been with them. However, the sound of Neville's name was definitely less officious than Hermione's Muggle upbringing. The change of the room's atmosphere was instantaneous. Draco dropped her hand as though it was a burning coal, and Crabbe and Goyle – who had been leaning comfortably against the frame of the doorway – now straightened up, flexing their muscles and cracking their knuckles ominously. Hermione looked nervously confused, and Ron's only course of action was to jump in between her and Draco and work as a human shield for her.

"So wait…you're telling me that you've been in here allowing Harry Potter to hang out with Neville Longbottom, a guy whose own grandmother doesn't claim him, and a Mudblood?" Ron flinched at the word. In the wizarding world, saying Mudblood was something akin to using the most horrendous racial slur in the Muggle world. Sure, he had heard his dad say it before and had certainly heard it uttered by Crabbe, but never Draco. He couldn't believe his ears.

"Harry, you're better than this," Draco explained as he crossed the compartment and sat down next to Harry, slinging an arm around his shoulder companionably. "Why hang out with wizards who are talentless and witches who have Muggles for parents, when you could hang out with purebloods like my brother and me? Just do as we say…we can teach you who is worth being friends with, and who is not."

Now it was Harry's turn to look disgusted. His eyes drifted over to Ron, who could only stand there, completely at a loss for what to say. Yes, he could admit that Draco had a tendency toward arrogance, but he had never seen him this bad. Ron slumped his shoulders, feeling defeated and mortified. "I think I can choose who are the right sort of friends," Harry replied as he pushed himself out from under Draco's arm and jumped across the compartment to sit next to Hermione, who was also looking conquered and small.

For a moment, Draco looked like he couldn't believe his eyes. When Harry did not waver from Hermione's side, though, he stood up with as much dignity as he could muster and said, "Fine then…be friends with the losers. Just know that you'll regret it someday. Come on, Ron!" Draco swept from the room with Crabbe and Goyle tailing him closely, leaving Ron behind in a stunned silence.

He didn't know what to do. Ron had always loved his brother and was always prone to taking his side of things, but now that he had gotten to know these people and had come to actually like them, he didn't want to just walk away. He knew that Draco was wrong, that Hermione at least was not a loser. Hadn't she already proved to him that she was intelligent and a rather great witch, considering the very little practice she had had?

"What's it going to be, Ron?" Harry suddenly asked. He apparently could sense Ron's internal struggle. Ron glanced between the two of them, mouthing wordlessly. He hated that this was happening, that he had to choose between his new friends and his brother. Yet the choice to him seemed clear. Friends came and went, but family was something you could never turn your back on.

"He's my brother," he said quietly. "Sorry." Then, he strolled from the room, stopping outside to lean against the wall sadly.

From inside the compartment, he heard Harry say, "I suppose he's just as bad as his brother, isn't he?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment before she said, "I don't think so."

_**So what did you think? Be honest! I know that Draco in canon has a unicorn hair wand, but I changed it in my fic to exaggerate Ron's difference from him. Also, the mask stuff will be important later, I promise! Finally, I know I asked last time, but please tell me how you feel about Ron as a character in this. I'm having the classic nature vs. nurture debate as far as he's concerned, and I'm trying my best to make him reflect his upbringing with the Malfoys and show that he's a Weasley at heart, but I'm not sure I'm doing it as well as I think I am. Just let me know!**_


	4. Rivals

******Hey guys! Sorry if this took longer than usual. I went on a trip to another country and got sidetracked by all the sight-seeing.**

**I do want to make something clear, though. Apparently there's another story on here that's very similar to my own. I want you to know that I did not know about this other story when I first started writing mine and that in no way is my story affiliated/inspired by the other. It seems we may end up taking our stories in similar directions, but I think the other author is planning on making theirs only one story, while I'm intending to make mine the entire series in seven separate stories (like the Harry Potter series). If you're interested in the other story, it's called Ron Malfoy by Hermoninny94. Just know that we have never collaborated or stolen each others ideas...it was just a freakish coincidence.  
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**That being said, I hope you enjoy the third chapter (fourth if you count the prologue)!  
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_** Chapter 3:**_

_**Rivals**_

The rest of the journey to Hogwarts was quite dismal. Ron longed to talk to Draco, to show him the error of his ways as far as Harry and Hermione were concerned, but his brother, Crabbe, and Goyle seemed determined to make fun of them. It was very clear to him that the main reason why Draco was laughing about Harry's baggy clothes, glasses, and choice of friends was only because he was hurt that Harry hadn't chosen him.

_It would have been easier for Harry to choose you if you would have been nice about Hermione and Neville,_ Ron thought darkly. He had never in known memory been this angry with his brother before. For the first time in his life he had been making true friends (as opposed to the friends he had to have because of his father), but Draco had to show up and ruin it for him. Now Harry thought they were both gits and Hermione was likely to follow suit. After all, who in their right mind would question Harry Potter? Other than Draco, of course?

The Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade Station and the occupants of the very last compartment found themselves scrambling to get their robes on. It was all very chaotic, with Crabbe tripping over the hem of his robes and knocking them over, Goyle putting his on backward, and Ron being unable to find one of his shoes. Only Draco was fully composed and ready to go with any real alacrity.

Stepping out into the night air at the station, Ron's eyes instantly scanned the crowd for Harry, Neville, and Hermione. He caught sight of Hermione's bushy hair and saw Neville stumble out of his carriage behind her looking very downtrodden. Clearly he had yet to find Trevor. Behind him came Harry, who instantly looked in his direction. All the friendliness that he had shown in their few minutes together seemed to have dissolved into cold indifference. _Stupid Draco! _Ron thought bitterly.

"What's the matter with you?" Draco was standing behind Ron, and as Ron twisted around to look at him, he realized that his brother was staring in the direction of the three friends with distaste.

Ron scowled as he looked at Draco and then at Crabbe and Goyle. "Nothing," he muttered. He longed to reproach Draco for his behavior, but he couldn't while Crabbe and Goyle were around. Draco seemed to catch onto this and turned back to his two companions.

"Go and find what we're supposed to do next," he ordered. Crabbe rushed off down the platform obediently and Goyle sauntered after him. "What's the matter with you?" Draco repeated as soon as they were gone. He threw Harry, Ron, and Hermione another disgusted glance and asked, "Is it about them?"

"Yes!" Ron snapped. "I was having fun, you know. It felt good to make new friends, and then you went and insulted them!"

"You seriously wanted to make friends with a near-Squib, a half-blood, and a Mudblood?" Draco looked on him as though he had never seen Ron before in his life. Ron rolled his eyes, hating how stupid Draco tended to be at times and hating the fact that he kept calling Hermione a Mudblood.

"You weren't calling Harry a half-blood earlier when you were trying to impress him into being your friend!" Ron argued.

"Oh yeah?" Draco asked, rounding on Ron now. "What about that Mudblood girl? How dare you allow a girl like her to be around you! Mum and Dad wouldn't like it!"

"I don't care!" Ron practically shouted. "I don't care what they think! She may have Muggles as parents, but she's really very good! She did the Unlocking Charm perfectly earlier. She isn't any less than us…I wish you could just see that!"

Draco glared at him as though he really doubted Ron's sanity and was on the verge of shouting back at him when Crabbe and Goyle approached. "We're supposed to follow the big bloke to some boats," Crabbe said. In the distance, Ron could just make out the shape of a large man carrying a lantern and calling for the first years to follow him.

"I think he's a giant," Goyle said as he wrinkled his nose.

"Who cares?" Ron muttered sullenly. Nobody but Draco – who began gritting his teeth in irritation – seemed to notice. The giant man saw them standing back from the other first years that he had gathered and beckoned them to come over. They slowly joined the throng of students, shuffling their feet as they went. The closer they drew to the giant man, the more familiar he looked to them, until finally Ron realized that he was Hagrid the groundskeeper, who had also accompanied Harry in Diagon Alley. _Great_, he thought, hoping that Harry didn't remember how Draco and Ron had acted about him. All the same, he couldn't help but stay as far back from the man as he could; up close, Hagrid was sort of scary, with his wild beard, girth, and gigantic hands and feet.

Hagrid led them away from the train station and down a small lane away from where all the older students were heading. "Where's he taking us?" several people asked nervously. Beside him, Draco scoffed smugly. They both knew where first year students were led, because their parents had told them hundreds of times. Someone from the school – in this case Hagrid – would lead them to the lake, where they would board small boats that took them up to the castle, separate from all the other students in the school. Narcissa had told them that the reason for this was that the first night at Hogwarts was most special for first years, who were really the guests of honor at the feast. It was a thought that made Ron feel slightly better, and the excitement in his gut suddenly increased, blocking out some of the negative feelings that he had harbored for Draco only a few moments before.

Somehow they managed to get separated from Crabbe and Goyle on the long walk to the lake. Draco seemed to not be surprised; he had been walking very quickly, and neither of the larger boys liked using such a brisk pace. Ron wondered for a moment whether or not Draco had planned this, when suddenly his brother said, "I'm sorry. It's just…well…it's embarrassing to see you spending time with people who are below you."

"They're not though!" Ron said in a raised voice. Draco shushed him as he looked around at their peers nervously, hoping that they didn't hear. "They're not!" Ron repeated quickly.

"But they're not purebloods. Dad says that purebloods are the type of people we should be making friends with!"

Ron sighed and looked on his brother sadly. Draco had always been fiercely loyal to their father. Ron was too, of course, but he had acquired the ability to see his father as a normal human being who was capable of making mistakes at an early age. He hated what he was about to say, because he knew that it would hurt Draco's feelings, but it had to be said. "Don't you think that Dad could be wrong about that?"

Sure enough, Draco's eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped in shock. He looked on Ron as though he had never seen him before, and then sped up to get away from Ron as fast as he could. "Stop!" Ron called after him, but Draco was already lost in the crowd. He was just quickening his own pace in order to catch him when he heard a voice sound from behind him.

"I think you're right." Ron stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to look into Hermione Granger's face. She had obviously been eavesdropping in on their conversation, but didn't look a bit guilty over it.

"Easy for you to say. You're Muggleborn. Of course you're going to think my Dad's wrong."

Hermione shrugged then said, "Just give your brother time. He'll come around."

"You don't know him! He'll never come around. He's always been like this." Well, that wasn't particularly true. Ron had never really heard his brother's opinions on Muggleborns before. He had never really assumed that Draco would be as interested in them as he felt (he didn't have the view of the motorway from his window like Ron had), but he had always rather hoped that Draco wouldn't be hateful. Now that he had witnessed this side to him, Ron felt like there was no changing him, simply because Draco was inflexible about even the pettiest of things, like being beaten in chess games and being convinced to stay out of their parents' basement.

"What? Stubborn?" Hermione's eyebrows raised in curiosity. When Ron nodded in agreement, she said, "I can see a family resemblance there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron said. He found himself getting increasingly annoyed with Hermione now that they were alone, and was suddenly feeling desperate to find Draco. It wasn't that she was saying things that he disagreed with, but that she was pointing out truths. Ron didn't want to be around her if she was just going to make him feel bad about himself and his brother.

"Just that you seem pretty stubborn as well. I mean, he _is_ your brother. He doesn't want you around us, yet you're sticking to what you originally thought of us. You're both that way even if you think differently. He'll come around, though…trust me."

Ron rolled his eyes and quickened his pace, finally losing Hermione in the crowd, much like Draco had lost him. He hated that she was right about this. Well…right about Draco and him being equally stubborn. Ron had a horrible feeling that Draco would never change his opinion of Harry, Neville, and Hermione now that Harry had insulted him. If there was one thing in the world that Draco couldn't tolerate, it was being made to feel inadequate, and Harry had done that quite well.

He found Draco at the front of the crowd of students near Hagrid. Ron glanced nervously up at the giant of a man, fearing he would get crushed by him if he moved a toe out of line. Hagrid didn't seem to notice him, however, so Ron turned to Draco to speak to him. "Look, I don't want to argue," he said in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry, okay? I was just having fun with them."

"I know," Draco replied, though he didn't seem any happier about it.

"Let's talk about something else now," Ron pressed. "Like…what Slytherin is going to be like or something of that sort." Draco turned to him finally, seeming to breathe in a sigh of relief at the sound of Ron moving on from him being rude to Harry, Neville, and Hermione.

"I can't wait," he finally replied to Ron. "Do you really think the common room is under the lake and looks all green?"

"It must, if that's what Crabbe's dad said. I think it sounds really cool."

The subject of the Slytherin common room carried them all the way to the lake. They immediately stopped talking at the sight of the dark water reflecting the light of torches that were perched near the shore. Ron could see about two dozen boats tied up at the water's edge waiting for students to pile in. In the distance stood the sight he had been waiting to see his entire life. The outline of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was just barely visible against the blackened sky. From his vantage point Ron could see several lights on in the castle, and the glow from the windows felt so inviting that he almost felt compelled to just swim across the lake in order to get there faster than the rowboats would surely take them.

"No more'n four ter a boat!" Hagrid called to them, and suddenly Ron was aware of the fact that students were shoving past him to get first pick of the boats.

"Come on!" Draco called to him. Ron could see Crabbe and Goyle shuffling toward his twin from the back of the crowd as though Draco had been actually calling for them instead of his brother. Ron was just about to scamper after them when he heard Hermione's voice in his ear again.

"You can sit with us if you like," she invited.

Ron turned to her for the briefest of moments and said, "I'm going to sit with my brother, thank you." He was well aware that his voice came out cold and harsh, but Ron didn't care – or at least tried not to. He had officially made his final decision. Draco was his brother and he couldn't afford to make his only true friend at Hogwarts angry with him already. Draco had a tendency to hold grudges, even against his family. While he may have been great at solving problems between Ron and his parents, he had never been particularly good at mending holes in their own relationship. It was always up to Ron to bend to Draco's will and this time would be no exception.

Leaving Hermione in shocked silence, he followed behind Goyle into the boat that Draco had long since claimed. "What did she want?" Draco whispered, wisely keeping his voice down for once. Crabbe and Goyle didn't even notice that he had said a single word.

"Nothing," Ron replied. "It's not important."

This seemed to satisfy Draco more than anything else Ron had said up to this point to placate him. Turning gleefully to face the castle, he seemed to forget that he and Ron had had any argument at all, and instantly began talking excitedly about what their classes would be like and which teachers would undoubtedly be his favorite.

"Of course, Professor Snape already knows Ron and me, so I think he should be good. Don't you agree, Ron?"

"Oh yeah," Ron said without really listening. The boats took off and they started moving forward, but Draco just wouldn't shut up. Ron drowned him out in his mind and instead looked over in Harry, Hermione, and Neville's boat, where a rather small and silly looking boy was now sitting where he could have been had Draco not cared who he was friends with. _Don't worry about it, Ron,_ he told himself. _You'll make other friends that will be better than them and Draco will actually like them._

They went into a cave in the middle of the mountain on which Hogwarts stood and that eerie green light that Crabbe described to them when talking of the Slytherin common room shone all about, cast every which way by the lanterns that hung on the bow of each boat. Everyone became silent now – even Draco – and the excitement was thick in the air. Any minute now they would come ashore and be headed up to the castle for the very first time in their lives. All thoughts of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and – to a lesser extent – Neville Longbottom were erased from Ron's mind temporarily. Instead he was immensely focused on the nervous butterflies that were flapping around in his stomach and the quickening pace of his heart rate. It was as though he were on the verge of entering some sort of sacred temple or meeting a celebrity; this all just seemed too good to be true.

At long last they came to the other edge of the lake. Above them, what seemed like hundreds of steps led all the way to the sloping lawn and then the oak front doors of Hogwarts. People began talking again primarily about the boat ride and the very spooky cave. "That wasn't so bad," Draco said with a smug grin that he obviously hoped said that he hadn't been scared in the least bit. Ron smirked; it always amused him when Draco tried to show off.

"Could have been worse," Ron replied. "Mum says there's a giant squid in there." They had a good time guessing at what other creatures could be in the lake. They genuinely believed that grindylows, mermaids, and kappas could be living in it (kappas were doubtful of course, since they typically haunted swamps and not lakes), but had a good laugh when Ron suggested that the Loch Ness Monster – which he had heard about through a Muggle magazine he had once seen being sold at the Muggle novelty shop in Diagon Alley – lived there and another first year actually believed him.

Once they arrived to the front doors, Hagrid knocked and they were let in by a very severe looking woman in square spectacles. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall to them, and Hermione waved to her and flashed her a bright smile. Ron wondered if this woman was the person who had told Hermione about the magical world. He quickly chided himself for even noticing however. Hermione was _not_ going to be his friend therefore it was unimportant who Hermione already knew.

They were made to wait in a little chamber next to what the woman had called the Great Hall before their sorting. Now the butterflies increased tenfold. They were coming up to the moment that Ron had been anticipating his entire life. He was going to finally find out if he was just as much a Malfoy as his father and Draco were. It had always been a concern for him, of course, since he had always been sick his entire life. He had thought that maybe when he got sorted, the Sorting Hat would think he was too weak to be a Slytherin and throw him into a weaker house, like Hufflepuff. Tonight he would finally see if his health had anything to do with who he really was.

People all around him were pacing anxiously, speculating what sort of task they had to undergo in order to find out what house they were in. Of course Ron and Draco both knew that there was no real test, that all that was involved was putting on a hat that could place any person into their perfect house. Yet neither of them could pass up the opportunity to tease all the other people who did not yet know.

"Our parents taught us loads of spells for dueling, you know," Draco told a nervous looking girl with long blond hair. "So we know how to fight any creature they might use."

"C-creature?" she asked nervously, biting her nails and staring at the door to the chamber in apprehension.

"Oh yeah," Ron joined in while trying his best to avoid the look Harry was giving him. He didn't know whether Harry could tell he was just joking or if he was just as nervous for the sorting as the girl they were teasing currently. "They use dragons, chimaeras, trolls…anything they can get their hands on, really."

The girl yelped in fear and the Malfoys and several other better informed students chuckled to themselves. "I don't think that's true," Ron could hear Hermione saying to Neville, who was now clutching a rather fat and squirmy toad in his hands. _When did he find Trevor?_ Ron wondered, but again found himself getting angry that he had even thought to wonder about the three friends he had sort of made on the train.

Professor McGonagall came back rather quickly. "Now follow me, first years," she ordered, beckoning them forward with her hand and leading the way. Draco threw Ron an excited grin, and Ron responded similarly. This was actually happening. At long last, the Malfoy twins were going to be sorted.

They were marched into the Great Hall and down the middle of four long house tables. Ron looked into the faces of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (who were seated at the two middle tables) and couldn't help but think about how he would be joining neither of them. Furthest from the door they had entered was the Gryffindor table, whose occupants were trying to crane their necks to get a good look at the first years (probably most interested in Harry Potter). The Slytherins – who were sitting closest to the door – played it cool and didn't seem to even care or notice that the first years were parading through for them all to see. Ron rather liked that about them. It showed respect for the people about to be sorted, a kind of respect that Ron was sure that he possessed.

Professor McGonagall called the entire hall to attention as soon as they were positioned in front of everyone. He didn't hear what she said, really. Ron was so nervous now that he couldn't focus on anything other than the teachers sitting at the staff table. He only recognized three of them, and his gaze kept alternating between them as a way to keep his stomach from churning with anticipation.

Professor Snape was pointedly looking down at his hands and sneaking furtive glances at Harry every now and then. He had never heard Professor Snape mention Harry Potter on any of his visits to Malfoy Manor, but he knew the man had to be interested in him. Who wouldn't be excited to be in the presence of the Boy Who Lived?

Hagrid, who had taken a seat at the very end of the staff table, was staring down at Harry too, but very openly and affectionately. _He is kind of creepy_, Ron thought as he remembered his mother's shudder while she recounted her familiarity with the groundskeeper. Harry didn't seem to realize that Hagrid was looking at him, though. He was shaking like a leaf, clearly nervous about whatever he was about to have to do in order to get sorted. _ I hope he didn't believe Draco and me,_ Ron hoped.

The third professor he recognized was from his Chocolate Frog card collection. Albus Dumbledore was seated at the very center of the table, his eyes flitting back and forth from student to student. Was it Ron's imagination, or did Dumbledore stare an awful lot at him? Sure, his eyes would flicker over to Harry every now and then, but they also came to rest on Ron a lot, as though he were a similarly fascinating sight to behold as well. Ron almost felt compelled to look around himself to see if maybe there had been a mistake, but he knew there wasn't. Dumbledore was staring directly into his eyes now, a rather sad sort of smile upon his old face. Ron had to break the eye contact abruptly – not only was it awkward, but for some reason he felt ashamed and troubled by looking into his eyes like that, though he couldn't figure out why he should feel that way at all.

All of this happened in a span of only a few seconds, and before Ron could even think any of it over, an old and very tattered hat was being presented before the first years. He heard the blond girl whom he and Draco had been teasing earlier say with uncertainty to a friend, "We're supposed to fight a hat?" Ron and Draco snickered, but a stern look from Professor McGonagall shut them up rather quickly.

The hat began to sing to them, describing how it functioned as a sort of mind reader who could find the perfect house for anyone who just tried it on. Then it went to describing the houses. Draco uttered a whispered, "Boo!" when Gryffindor was described as a house for the brave. Crabbe did the same thing as Ravenclaw was said to be a place "for those of wit and learning." Ron rolled his eyes; he knew that Crabbe was just trying to get in on the joke, but it just figured that the dumbest guy he had ever met would hate the house for smart people. Ron listened carefully as the hat described Hufflepuff, surprised to find that it was a house for hard workers. He had always been under the impression that Hufflepuff housed the students that really didn't have any talent. To hear that Hufflepuffs actually had a purpose was interesting and strange. When Slytherin was described as a place for people who were cunning, the Malfoy twins smiled in unison. Crabbe chuckled happily (Ron really couldn't see how he was cunning, but perhaps he was selling Crabbe short) and from his left he could see Goyle stand a little taller with pride.

One by one, Professor McGonagall went to calling students up to the front of the hall to try on the Sorting Hat. A girl named Hannah Abbot was placed into Hufflepuff, as was Susan Bones. Ron grinned at the girl who they had been lying to about having to battle creatures – whose name was apparently Lavender Brown – and she threw him the dirtiest look she could muster. She was put into Gryffindor.

"Crabbe, Vincent!" McGonagall called while reading from her scroll that had the names of all the first years upon it. Crabbe shoved his way past a few students who were blocking his path and jammed the hat excitedly upon his head. It took an odd amount of time – nearly three minutes – before the hat declared him a Slytherin.

"It wanted to put me into Gryffindor," he whispered to Goyle as he passed by, a look of rage upon his face. Draco smirked and Goyle outright chuckled. Ron thought the hat was sorely mistaken. Vincent Crabbe was anything but courageous. He had more brains than he had guts.

More students were called before Goyle was summoned to the stool and also declared a Slytherin, though his sorting was much quicker than Crabbe's had been. He didn't say a word as he marched past the Malfoy twins, just smiled as though he were pleased, and crossed the hall to the Slytherin table. Ron watched enviously as they clapped him on the back and congratulated their newest member. _That'll be me soon_, he thought.

Hermione Granger was next and Ron couldn't help but watch her sorting with bated breath. It would have been too much to hope that she would be placed into Slytherin. After all it was the house that was reputed to be anti-Muggleborn. As the Sorting Hat deliberated for what seemed like ages, he imagined it was trying to decide between either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Based on what he now officially knew of both, Hermione would be a good pick for either of them. She was certainly intelligent and witty, but she was also hard-working, like the hat said Hufflepuffs were. It came as a great shock when the hat finally yelled out, "Gryffindor!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ron said out loud while Draco laughed beside him.

"Slytherin wannabe, right Ron?" he asked, using Ron's own words from Diagon Alley against him. Hermione didn't seem to care that she was being placed in the worst house in the entire school, though. She jumped excitedly off of the stool, pulled the hat off, and practically ran to the cheering table by the wall. A couple of red-headed twins were clapping her on the back and rubbing her bushy head stupidly, while another ginger boy was shaking her hand importantly. _Ugh…what a bunch of losers_, Ron thought, staring at them all – including Hermione now – in distaste.

Neville Longbottom was placed into Gryffindor as well, which also came as a shock. Even though he now knew Hufflepuffs were good for something, he still had been sticking to the stereotype as far as Neville was concerned. The only thing Neville had seemed good at when he met him was losing his toad. Yet Neville was apparently much braver than Ron had thought initially, because he was now joining the Gryffindor table looking immensely relieved.

"Malfoy, Draco!" Professor McGonagall finally shouted. Draco held his head up high and strode to the stool confidently. The hat barely brushed the tips of his platinum hair before shouting, "Slytherin!"

This time Ron actually cheered along with the Slytherin table. Of course, there had never been any question as to where Draco would end up. He had always shown Slytherin tendencies: Cunning, determination, self-preservation. He gave Ron a quick, satisfied grin, and then marched rather proudly over to the Slytherin table, where he was greeted enthusiastically by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Malfoy, Ronaldus!"

Ron gulped and tried to steady himself. From behind the staff table, he saw Professor Dumbledore sit up a little straighter in his chair which confused Ron. He had almost seemed pleasantly bored at everyone else's sorting, but as soon as it was Ron's turn, he looked excited and on edge. Ron looked down nervously and stepped forward.

As soon as the hat was on his head it began to whisper in his ear. "A Malfoy…like you? Are you sure? You do not seem like any other Malfoy I have ever met. You seem like you belong to a different family altogether."

_I AM a Malfoy! _Ron thought angrily at the hat, suddenly feeling much less certain about where he was to be placed than he ever had felt before. _Just put me into Slytherin!_

"Slytherin? I would have never thought to put you there. You have so many different qualities that it is almost hard to tell. You are intelligent, but only about things you have a passion for. You are hard-working, but again, only regarding things you really care about. The bravery, though…you are the most courageous Malfoy I have ever read."

_Please not Gryffindor!_ Ron begged inwardly, his insides twisting anxiously. If this hat really did put him in the worst house in the school, he was sure he would ask to be sent home immediately.

"I usually allow the students to decide in the end," the hat said, more to itself than to Ron. "But I can't let that happen now. He needs to be in the house that the rest of them are in." The rest of them? The rest of who? What was the Sorting Hat talking about? He was about to ask it and beg not to be placed anywhere other than Slytherin, but before he could, the hat shouted out to the hall, "Gryffindor!"

Ron froze, his mind ceasing all thought and his heart breaking with disappointed hope. The hat, which had fallen over his eyes as soon as it had been placed upon his head, was whipped off by Professor McGonagall, but Ron didn't move from his seat. The entire hall was staring at him in disbelief, as though it were unimaginable for a Malfoy to be placed anywhere besides Slytherin. Draco's jaw was dropped stupidly and his shoulders were slumped in a sort of defeated manner. Only Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom reacted in a way that had been appropriate up until his sorting. They applauded politely and grinned at him, but quickly stopped when it was apparent that nobody else was following suit.

"Mr. Malfoy, kindly join the Gryffindor table," McGonagall said at long last, unable to keep her own sense of shock from her voice. "We must continue with the sorting."

Ron stood up from the stool feeling completely and utterly numb. He had dreamed of this night ever since he was three years old, when Lucius began to tell them bedtime stories about Hogwarts and Slytherin. _Oh, Merlin, what are my parents going to think?_ he thought to himself while turning toward the table at the opposite end of the hall from the one where his brother sat. People finally began to clap for him, and he found himself greeted earnestly by the red-headed twins that he had seen tussling Hermione's hair. "We got a Malfoy!" they were saying with delight. Somehow they seemed to know his family, but he had no idea who they were.

Ron plopped down next to Hermione, who gave him a quick hug that he didn't have the heart to shrug off, and looked up at the staff table. They were still applauding at the front of the hall, and Ron saw with dismay that Dumbledore was smiling, a twinkle in his eye. _That's why he was staring at me like that before I got sorted_, he thought to himself. _He knew I was weird…that I wouldn't be like Draco. He must know how to read minds or something, like the hat._

Ron barely paid any attention to the rest of the sorting. He was aware of course when Harry Potter joined the Gryffindor ranks, because the entire table – save for him – jumped up in unison and cheered so incredibly loudly that Ron was certain the ceiling was going to cave in. Harry sat down next to Ron, beaming at him in satisfaction as though he had completely forgotten what Draco had said earlier, but Ron only hung his head in shame. What would Draco think of him now? It was bad enough that they had fought over Harry, Neville, and Hermione earlier…now Ron was actually in their house. He was probably over with Crabbe and Goyle talking about what a traitor he was.

Eventually the sorting ended and the feast began, but Ron found himself unable to touch any of the food. He felt physically ill. What was he going to do? He supposed he would have to withdraw from Hogwarts, since there was no taking back where the hat had placed him. He imagined what it would be like, sitting at home and being taught by his mother while Draco got to stay at Hogwarts, because he had made it into Slytherin. Ron would be a total outcast and he was certain he deserved it.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Neville asked from across the table. Ron looked up at him and shook his head, preferring to remain hungry than eat with the Gryffindors.

"You're not seriously that upset about being placed in our house, are you?" one of the twins asked him. Ron didn't answer. "We're the best house there is!"

"Seriously!" the other responded. "We only let certain people in, so you must be pretty special. Isn't that right, Fred?"

"That's right, George," the first twin agreed. Ron knew they were trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't working. How could it? He knew the truth; Gryffindor wasn't the best house. It was the worst. Hadn't that been what his dad and mum had always told him? People who were put into Gryffindor were dumb, cocky, and careless. That must have meant that Ron was just as bad as they were, not that he was special.

"Are you upset your brother didn't make it here?" Hermione asked. Ron couldn't stop from scowling at her and she dropped the roll that she was bringing up to her mouth.

"I don't belong here," he told her. "I should have been a Slytherin like Draco."

"Slytherins are a bunch of numpties!" Fred or George exclaimed (Ron didn't look up to see who had actually said it). Ron clenched his fists under the table, having to fight from punching them in the face. How dare they speak of Slytherin like that? It was the best house there was!

"Are you kidding?" he lashed out at them, finally raising his voice and feeling the fury wash through him. "Slytherin is way better than Gryffindor! At least Slytherins have got some brains! All Gryffindors do is get themselves in trouble and blame other people for it!"

"If you don't like it, then go sit with your precious Slytherins!" Harry suddenly snapped at him. All the happiness that he had exuded when he had taken his seat next to Ron had evaporated once again, but this time Ron didn't care. If Harry was going to be proud of being in this horrible house then he wasn't worth being friends with.

"Fine! I will!" Standing up roughly, Ron stomped away from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherins. They all abruptly stopped their talking as soon as Ron joined them. He didn't care; instead he roughly shoved Crabbe aside and sat next to his brother. "I can't believe this…Gryffindor…what a load of dragon dung!"

Draco said nothing. In fact, he didn't even bother looking at Ron. He instead took to pushing his mashed potatoes around his plate with his fork. An older girl down the table suddenly shouted, "Get away from our table, Gryffindor!" Ron's head snapped in her direction. She was looking at him much as Draco had looked upon Hermione earlier after finding out she had Muggle parents.

"No!" Ron insisted, glaring right back. "I belong to this house, so I'll sit here if I like!"

"Go away, Ron," Draco muttered quietly as he still stared down at his plate.

"What?" Ron asked, hardly believing his ears.

"I said, go away! Go back to your Gryffindor friends!" Draco now looked him full in the face. His eyes were hard and angry. All the fears that Ron had originally experienced on being placed into Gryffindor suddenly flew back to him. Draco – his twin brother and only friend at Hogwarts – was shunning him.

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**What do you think? Was the sorting done well? Did it take you by surprise? What about Draco's reaction to Ron being placed into Gryffindor? Reviews are lovely and greatly appreciated!**


	5. Secrets

******Hey everyone! I tried to write this as fast as I could so that people who were anxious for more could have exactly that. I'm sorry if it seems rushed at certain points (particularly at the end). If it is, let me know and I'll try to edit it later on. Also, feel free to review! I loved all the feedback I got on the last chapter. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. **

**I hope you enjoy!  
**

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_**Chapter Four:**_

_**Secrets**_

Ron spent his entire first night at Hogwarts awake in his dormitory. It was a struggle for him not to cry out of frustration for the majority of the evening. Somehow he managed not to, simply because he kept telling himself to be a man and just to accept this for what it was. The Sorting Hat told him that he was a Gryffindor, so he must be.

Deep down, though, he knew that the hat was wrong. Hadn't he spent his entire childhood obsessed with Slytherin? Hadn't he named his owl Salazar? Didn't he own several Slytherin t-shirts and sweaters? Why on earth was he in the complete opposite house now? And how was he supposed to make friends now, knowing that he was in a place he didn't belong and being incapable of feeling any sort of happiness over it?

What was probably harder to accept was the fact that Draco appeared not to be speaking with him. It amazed him that only earlier in the evening they had been tricking Lavender Brown into thinking that they would have to battle a creature in order to be sorted. Now Draco wouldn't even look at him. _I'm an embarrassment_, Ron thought sadly as he stared up at the dark red canopy of his bed in the Gryffindor first year boys' dormitory.

After Draco had told him to leave the Slytherin table, Ron had had nowhere else to go but back to the Gryffindor table. The twins named Fred and George teased him mercilessly about not being accepted where he thought he belonged and most of the Gryffindor first years smiled smugly all the while. Only Neville and Hermione seemed to feel sorry for him. When he moved to the very end of the table where there was nobody seated, Hermione followed (admittedly, he hadn't wanted her to and she didn't talk to him much, but it was nice to know that someone was at least trying to like him). And when they first got up into the boys' dormitory, Ron had had a brief moment of panic over which bed he was to take. The one on the end was close to a corner, where he knew spiders often made their webs. He had always hated spiders, with their long legs and the way they wrapped up their pray, suffocating them, and then sucked the blood out. They were just creepy. He must have gone white in the face or something, because Neville had noticed and asked what was wrong. Ron had explained in the quietest whisper he could muster, and Neville had happily moved his things to the foot of the bed on the end, giving Ron the one beside it. For this he was even more grateful to Neville than he had been to Hermione.

To his right he could now hear Harry snoring away – he had seemed to have fallen asleep rather immediately – while to his left Neville was also asleep, though not as peacefully. For whatever reason, he had a feeling that Neville was either not as happy with his sorting as some of the other new Gryffindors (though certainly happier than Ron) or that he was nervous about classes the next day. He had had a very anxious look as they had all been marched up to the common room, following the very bossy prefect who had been given the task of leading them like a duckling would follow its mother. Maybe he had been afraid of getting lost or something?

When light started to filter into the common room, Ron gave up sleeping as a bad job. Stealing himself for what he was sure would be a horrible day, Ron crept out of bed and dressed himself. He saw with dismay that his red and gold ties had arrived, and he could only just imagine what Madam Malkin had thought when she saw what house he was sorted into. _I bet she had a right laugh_, he thought miserably.

After combing through his hair a bit, Ron snuck out of the dormitory and down the stairs with his school things in his bag. He had no idea what classes he would be attending today, just that he had better be prepared since he hadn't taken the trouble to memorize the Gryffindor password in his depressed state the previous night. It was slightly difficult to maneuver down the stairs with his heavy bag in tow, but Ron thought it was smart that he err on the side of caution for today.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed the heavy door that separated the common room from the stairwell, he was shocked to see that he wasn't the only early riser. In one of the squashy chairs by the fire – which Ron ruefully admitted to himself looked quite comfortable – he could see a bushy mass of brown hair just peeking above the back. He automatically recognized who this must be, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he could possibly turn around and slip back upstairs in order to avoid her. However, before any course of action could be taken, Hermione Granger turned around and saw him.

"Oh, good morning!" she greeted with what Ron assumed was a mere sympathetic smile.

"Hello," he said awkwardly back.

"Want to sit?"

He didn't know how to react to the invitation. Ron was still a little embarrassed over everything that had happened between he and Hermione yesterday; the fun train ride, his rude brother, the Sorting Ceremony, and his reaction to being placed in Gryffindor. He would never be embarrassed that he wanted to be in Slytherin, of course, but he was mortified over everything else. Still, she was looking at him expectantly – almost friendly – and his desire to not feel as lonesome as he had felt all night won out over any misgivings.

Plopping down in a chair across from her while simultaneously relishing the comfortable glow the fire cast, Ron offered her a shy sort of smile and looked down at his hands nervously. "Rough night?" Hermione asked astutely while she scribbled in a notebook hastily.

"How could you tell?" It was a sarcastic reply that might have hurt another person's feelings had he been talking to anyone else. In fact, Ron had a feeling if he were to talk to Harry Potter in such a way he would probably be given an icy glare and treated with contempt.

Hermione seemed to take no offense at being addressed in a sarcastic way, however. She simply shrugged and said, "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks."

"I didn't mean anything by it!" she quickly said, as though afraid that she had actually caused him some sort of pain. Ron smirked at her. For some reason, he found it easy to be around Hermione, despite all the trouble he had gotten into with Draco for being near her.

"I know," he admitted. "I bet I do look terrible. I didn't sleep at all."

"Is it really so bad that you didn't end up in Slytherin?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Well, yeah…it is."

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully, as though deep in contemplation. Then she said in a voice that clearly showed she was thinking over her words very carefully, "I've read a lot about the four houses, you know. Are you sure you're really like a Slytherin?"

"Yes!" Ron insisted. "I've been obsessed with it since I was about four years old! I belong there! I can't understand why no one but me can see that!" He was nearly shouting now, not because he was angry with Hermione, but only because he was angry with the situation. Hermione flinched at his voice and he could tell she was very near to shushing him.

"Well, from what I've read, most of the dark wizards from Great Britain belonged in Slytherin house. It just doesn't seem like you…you're not evil," she tried to reason as she shut the notebook she had been writing in.

"What does that prove?" Ron now yelled out of actual anger with Hermione. "Just because Slytherins are notorious for being dark doesn't mean that they all are! They're greatly misunderstood! If you really have learned all about the four houses, you'll know that Salazar Slytherin wanted to house people who were ambitious and cunning. Those are not exactly dark traits!"

"Shh!" Hermione begged, looking at him nervously. Still, Ron noticed an impressed sort of glimmer in her eye, and he wondered if she was surprised that he knew so much about Slytherin. _Well, I should!_ he thought, _I've only been obsessed with it since I was a toddler!_ Hermione said, "All I'm saying is that so far, every Slytherin I have met has been…well…mean."

"My brother's not mean!" Ron argued, but all the confidence he had felt while defending Slytherin left him. After the way Draco had treated Harry, Hermione, Neville, and himself yesterday, Ron wasn't so sure he was right about him. Actually, he rather felt like he didn't know Draco at all.

Hermione seemed to notice the inner conflict he was having, for she added as gently as possible, "He didn't seem too kind yesterday when he was calling me a…whatever he called me."

For one brief moment, Ron was glad that Hermione hadn't known exactly what Draco had meant. Then he realized with dismay that she was probably expecting him to explain it to her. "He called you a…a Mudblood." Ron gave an involuntary shiver as he said it, feeling like the dirtiest person alive. "It's a nasty word for Muggleborns. Actually, it's rude to more than just the person being called it. It's a word that no one should ever say, really. I've never heard Draco say it before yesterday."

Hermione frowned and looked down at her notebook. "That's what I thought it meant," she mumbled suddenly appearing ashamed with herself. All the anger he harbored for her at her misrepresentation of Slytherin slipped away as he watched her slowly come to terms with the fact that people were going to be prejudiced against her for having Muggle parents. He had to make this better.

"He's not usually like that, you know," he tried. Hermione didn't bother looking up at him. "It's Crabbe and Goyle…the two blokes he was with. They're really anti-Muggle. Really stupid, honestly. Draco tends to change around them."

"Why?" Hermione said, sneaking a tiny peek in his direction.

Ron tried not to grin with satisfaction. It felt weird that he was being made to cheer Hermione up when originally she had sought to make him feel better over being sorted into Gryffindor. "They make him feel…I don't know…powerful, I guess." Ron said, really thinking about Draco's friendship with the other two Slytherins very carefully for the first time ever. He had always wondered why it was that Draco had looked forward to going over to their houses so much when they were children. They had loved to make fun of them behind their backs, but when they were around Crabbe and Goyle, Draco had always assumed the position of alpha male, leading the four of them into as much trouble as he could. Ron had always been skeptical of Draco's silly ideas and had no qualms voicing it. Crabbe and Goyle, however, blindly followed whatever he said. It must have felt really good to be friends with people who left all the choices up to Draco.

"So you're saying he called me a…Mudblood…because he was around his friends?" Hermione asked, looking unsure.

"Well, yeah, I think so. If it were just me with him, he would have probably been a little put off, but he wouldn't have been openly rude. He would have eventually sat down with us and wouldn't have said a word about it." Hermione looked as though she didn't believe a thing he told her. Ron rolled his eyes and pressed on. "I'm telling you…Draco only becomes that prejudiced when he's around them." This, of course, was only partially true. Their parents weren't the biggest fans of Muggles. While their mother did her best not to show her intolerance too much to her children, Lucius had rather encouraged them to come to think of Muggles as inferior. Ron, of course, didn't buy into it near as much as Draco. While sometimes he looked at things that Muggles had created and thought they were silly, he never assumed that they were incapable of living happy lives or weren't worthy of his company, as he was sure Draco felt.

But Hermione didn't need to know all of that. It might help to heal any wound that Draco had left if he just pretended that Draco was just trying to show off for his friends and would have never once thought of being so nasty to her on his own. He could imagine if it would have just been Draco that came to the compartment yesterday that afterward, he would have made fun of Hermione and Neville mercilessly, regardless of who he was around.

Hermione was silent for a moment, looking down at her lap again at the notebook she had been writing in. Ron wondered for a brief moment if she were rereading what she had written earlier or if she was thinking. Then she said, "What about how Crabbe and Goyle make you feel?"

"What?"

"Well, you said that they make Draco feel empowered…how do you feel when they're around? I mean, you could have stayed in our compartment yesterday, but you left when they did. Do they make you feel…weak or something?"

For the first time since he had met her (but certainly not the last), Ron hated that she was so perceptive. He considered not sharing anything at all. It was, after all, his business. Yet Hermione could very well be the only friend he would have at Hogwarts (regardless of what Draco thought, for he now felt determined to spite him as much as possible), and he genuinely felt that keeping secrets from her would be a bad way to start off a friendship. "Well, yeah," he finally responded. "It's really easy to feel weak when you're me."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "You're smart, funny, kind. Why should you feel weak compared to them?"

"Because I'm sick." It came out as a mumble, but he said it loud enough for her to hear and he had to look down as she gasped in surprise.

"What do you mean you're sick? What are you sick with? You're not going to die, are you?" Hermione's voice sounded increasingly worried, and Ron was convinced she was about to cry. He couldn't believe the capacity she had for caring for others. She barely knew Ron – she couldn't even see why he was such a perfect Slytherin! – yet here she was, fretting over his illness almost hysterically. It really was sweet of her.

"I don't know what it is," Ron tried to explain as calmly as he could. It didn't seem to help Hermione's hysteria at all. "It's not fatal or anything, but I do have to take a potion for it once a month at the new moon." He tried to act as though it was no big deal, but Hermione didn't seem to agree with him. To her, it was a huge deal.

"Oh, Ron!" she said. Her eyes filled with tears and she involuntarily clutched the notebook to her chest. "You're so brave!"

Now Ron couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Why? Because I'm sick? That doesn't make me brave, Hermione. I can't take any risks. I get tired if I'm outside for too long, I feel miserable the week leading up to my potion, and it only makes me irritable afterward. Trust me, being ill doesn't make me brave."

"But you've put up with it! You've dealt with more than most people here!"

"Not Harry Potter." He couldn't help but say the other Gryffindor's name bitterly. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad to be in this house if Harry would have just been willing to be nice to him about not making it in Slytherin. Instead, the boy had been downright nasty.

Hermione looked on him sympathetically. "He's not so bad. He's just…it's hard for Harry to understand why you don't like it here. You should have heard him talking about his horrid aunt and uncle on the train and-"

"I don't care," Ron cut her off. "It doesn't matter what you tell me about his family, it'll never change my opinion of him. Harry Potter is nothing but a git."

* * *

Hermione got a taste of just how inflexible Ron was going to be toward Harry at breakfast. The two of them navigated their way down to the Great Hall early and had a good head start in finishing their oatmeal when Harry arrived. "Harry!" Hermione had hailed from their end of the table. "You can sit with us!" Ron had given her the coldest glare he could muster, but she seemed unperturbed by him. Sensing a trap, Harry chose to sit directly across from Ron and Hermione rather than right next to them.

"Beautiful weather we're having," Hermione commented while indicating the enchanted ceiling. Ron glanced up and saw the sun peeking through a single cloud. Harry nodded as he too looked up at the clear sky. Other than that, neither of them behaved as though they had heard Hermione. Ron went back to staring toward the door to the hall and wondering when Draco was going to arrive (and, indeed, if he was still going to be a prat), while Harry set to buttering himself some toast.

"What class do you think we'll have first?" Hermione pressed when it became apparent that the weather was not a good conversation starter between her two friends. "I'm hoping for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall told me she teaches that subject and I really think she'll make a very good teacher. What do you think, Ron?" Ron answered her with a shrug and shoveled another bite of oatmeal in his mouth. He was not going to be the first one to relent to Hermione's barrage of questions. "Harry? What class do you want to have first?"

Harry, obviously less determined than Ron to keep up the silence, said, "I don't know. I'm not sure what I'll like the most."

"You would know if you would have just opened up a book before coming here," Ron said without thinking. He didn't know where it had come from – the insult just kind of slipped out. In his mind, he imagined what Draco's reaction would have been if he heard it, but then he remembered that Draco now didn't care what Ron said or did.

Harry gave him a cold look and replied, "Tell me, why aren't you at the Slytherin table? Oh, that's right…no one wants you there."

"Okay, let's not get out of hand!" Hermione said as Ron stood up, his fists clenched and his oatmeal slipping off the table and onto the floor. Harry stood too, as though stealing himself for a fight. Hermione looked terrified.

It was Neville who brought them back to their senses. Oblivious to the fight that was about to break out, he dropped down in the seat next to Harry looking utterly miserable. Ron shook his head as though he were a wet dog and Harry's eyes went from blazing with fury to worried. Hermione seized the opportunity while she had the chance. "What's wrong Neville?"

"I hope we don't have to do magic in class today," he said while he shakily reached out for some orange slices. "I just know I'm going to be rubbish."

"I'm sure you're not!" Hermione insisted.

"How can you be so sure?" Neville asked. "Are any of you nervous?"

"No," Ron and Harry said in unison, though both of them knew it wasn't the truth. Ron really was nervous, since he couldn't be sure that his new, weak wand would produce the same results that his mother's always had. Meanwhile, Harry had no idea how to perform any magic just yet, so he had to be feeling as ill at ease as Neville was. Neither of them were about to admit it in front of the other, though, for fear it would make themselves look pathetic.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "I'm kind of nervous, to be honest."

"Why would you be?" Harry asked as though genuinely taken by surprise.

"What if I don't do well? What if I'm so bad that they decide to send me back home? I don't think I could live in the Muggle world again knowing that Hogwarts and magic really do exist!"

"Do you think they send people home for being rubbish like that?" Neville asked. He was turning very pale and looked as though he was about to vomit all over the table. Next to him, Harry was looking just as scared.

"Of course they don't!" Ron insisted. "If they did that, all of the first years would be sent home today. None of us are going to be that great starting out."

Everyone seemed to calm down at this, and though Ron hated Harry he was slightly proud of himself to see him breathe a sigh of relief and take some bacon. Hermione smiled at Ron happily and Ron's negative feelings about being placed into Gryffindor were eased slightly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all? Sure, Draco wasn't talking to him right now, but perhaps Hermione was right. He would get over it eventually. Meanwhile, Ron felt a friendship starting with Hermione and possibly Neville, which meant that he wouldn't be so lonely on the whole. Harry, of course, was given up by him as a lost cause. He clearly was incapable of understanding why it was so painful for Ron to be placed in this house.

A rush of wings overhead signaled the arrival of the mail. Harry gaped at the owls as though he didn't expect them to suddenly swoop in on breakfast and Neville glanced up nervously, fearful of news from his grandmother. Hermione pulled a disgusted face and said, "Kind of unsanitary, isn't it?"

Ron shrugged and grabbed a blueberry bagel, avoiding looking up into the mass of feathers for as long as possible. If Draco had written to their parents last night, they were bound to know, and Ron was sure to hear from them. _They probably hate me now_, he thought miserably as he tried his best not to look as nervous as Neville.

"Oh look!" Hermione said happily. A barn owl that had a tag on its leg saying, "Hogwarts School Owl" had landed in front of her with an envelope in its beak. Hermione seemed to recognize this particular owl, but Ron couldn't place when she had found the time to mail her parents news of her sorting. They had been together since six in the morning, and not once had they visited the owlery. Hermione noticed his quizzical look and said in an explanatory way, "I wrote to them when we got back to the common room last night. That prefect Percy walked me down to the owlery and I sent it around nine o'clock or so."

"Oh," Ron said in understanding, casting a furtive look in the direction of the prefect in question. He had flaming red hair like Fred and George – he was undoubtedly their brother – but unlike them, he had a very serious expression on his face that proved just how superior he thought he was to everyone else.

Ron was just about to comment on how snobby Percy looked, when he saw a flash of red enter through the high window out of the corner of his eye. Glancing upward despite all of his attempts to not look into the sea of birds overhead, Ron saw his father's great horned owl Zeus carrying a very ominous red envelope in its beak, a scroll tied to his leg.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron said in dismay. "They've sent me a Howler!"

"What's a Howler?" Harry and Hermione asked in unison, both of them looking up and trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that Ron saw. He didn't answer them, but buried his face in his hands, desperately hoping the bird wouldn't recognize him. Neville – much to Ron's relief – very grimly explained for him.

"That's absolutely horrid!" Hermione exclaimed, rubbing her hand gently on Ron's back to comfort him. It didn't help.

"I told you they would be mad at me for being a Gryffindor," Ron said into his hands. Hermione didn't reply, but he could hear Harry's snort of derision carry across the table. Looking up at him with intense dislike, Ron said, "Back off, Potter."

Harry appeared affronted, but said nothing. Instead, the four of them watched Lucius' owl's progress down to the Gryffindor table. Eventually he fluttered down on top of Ron's bagel. From across the Great Hall, Ron could see Draco sneering in his direction with anticipation. Clearly he had seen the Howler too, and he was no doubt waiting for Ron's punishment to be issued in front of the entire school. Yet when Ron began to grab the envelope from Zeus, he turned and offered his leg instead. Ron took a peek at both letters and received a shock: The scroll was for him, but the Howler was clearly addressed to Draco.

"What is it, Ron?" Neville asked from across the table, looking nervous. He was eyeing the Howler with distaste. He had obviously had experience with them.

"The Howler…it's for Draco," he said to them all. Even Harry had the courtesy to look surprised and a tad relieved. Looking up at Draco (who was now saying something to Crabbe and looking over at the Gryffindor table expectantly), Ron tried to feel sorry for him, but found it difficult. He took the rolled up scroll from around Zeus' leg and watched him fly over to Draco with the red envelope still clutched in his beak.

As soon as Draco saw him, his face changed from delighted to frightened. Zeus plopped the Howler down into his pancakes and took off as fast as his wings could take him in order to avoid the sound of the Howler going off. Draco stared at it with total disbelief. Even from this distance, Ron could tell it was already beginning to smoke at the edges. Hermione leaned over in her seat so she could see past Harry, and the two boys across the table actually turned around so they could get a look at Draco's reaction.

Draco let it sit too long. It burst into spectacular flames, and Mrs. Malfoy's voice rung out through the entire Great Hall, drowning out all conversation and making everyone twist in their seats as Harry and Neville had done to get a good look at the victim.

"_DRACO ABRAXAS MALFOY! HOW DARE YOU WRITE SUCH A LETTER TO YOUR FATHER AND ME! GRYFFINDOR OR NOT, YOUR BROTHER IS STILL YOUR BROTHER, AND IF WE HEAR OF YOU BEING ANYTHING BUT KIND TO HIM, WE'LL DISENROLL YOU FROM HOGWARTS AND TEACH YOU FROM HOME!_" By the end of it, Draco was pink in the face with embarrassment. It probably didn't help that the majority of the Slytherin table – Crabbe and Goyle included – was pointing and laughing at him. Gathering up his things, Draco made to leave, but was stopped halfway down the table by Professor Snape, who was handing out schedules. As soon as he had his in his hand, he disappeared.

"Blimey," Neville said, looking over at Ron with wide eyes.

"I know," Ron replied, feeling his ears burning hot with mortification. Now that Draco was gone from the Great Hall, everyone was turning to stare in his direction.

"Well, at least we know they're not mad you made it into Gryffindor," Hermione replied with a wide grin.

"No, we know that they're mad at Draco for not speaking with me," Ron corrected. "They probably are mad that I'm in Gryffindor."

"Well, read your letter, then!" Hermione snapped at him. Ron could see that she was impatient to prove him wrong. Unfurling the scroll, he was a tad surprised to see that it was Lucius who had written to him. He would have thought that, given the fact that it was his mother who had sent the Howler, she would have written to him too. Hermione was looking over his shoulder as he started to read, but he eventually twisted away from her, scooting down the table for some privacy.

_Ronaldus,_

_ Draco wrote to us last night to tell us that you had been sorted into Gryffindor. I know that it is not the house you have always dreamed of being a part of, but your mother and I want you to know that we love you no matter what you are. Even if you would have been put into Hufflepuff, we would have supported you completely. You are our son, no matter what you call yourself._

_ Your mother is going to send Draco a letter explaining just how important you are regardless of house, though I'm sure you've probably already heard all about it. I want you to have a good time and seek Draco out if he doesn't do the same for you. You are twin brothers, which is more important than anything else. Stick by each other, all right?_

_ Have fun and make new friends, too. I hear that you met Harry Potter upon the Hogwarts Express and that he's a Gryffindor as well. Be nice to him – I've read that he has not been raised amongst wizards, so he might be a little slow – and try to be friends. I think he's the exact type you should surround yourself with._

_Write to us any time!_

_Your proud father,  
Lucius Malfoy_

Ron stared down at the letter in disbelief. They really weren't mad? But what about all that stuff about Gryffindor being a house for Slytherin wannabes? What about all the stories that Lucius had told them when they were children? What about Salazar Slytherin's goal and how they should live by it at all costs? He had never heard anything about Godric Gryffindor's goal. Was it any different? Why was his father so understanding of him and not of Draco? And why on earth would he want Ron to make friends with Harry? He was raised by Muggles! Why would he be the type to surround himself with?

Hundreds of questions whirling through his brain, Ron very absent-mindedly took his schedule from Professor McGonagall's grasp as she passed them around. He only barely realized when Hermione gave a sad sigh at seeing Charms was their first class of the day, and blankly followed behind her, Neville, and Harry as they headed up to their lesson.

* * *

"Well that was awfully nice of him to say," Neville said after Ron allowed him to read the letter from his father at first break. Ron had decided to spend this time with him instead of Hermione, since she had gone up to the library to begin her Charms homework already. Across the blustery courtyard, Ron could see Harry, who was sitting awkwardly with the Weasley twins (who Ron had finally learned the names of from some of the warnings regarding horseplay that Professor Flitwick had given them at the beginning of class). They were talking to him animatedly, but he looked incredibly uncomfortable, which only made Ron smile. If anyone deserved such torture, it was him.

"Yeah, I suppose," Ron said back. "It's weird, though. Dad's always gone on and on about how wonderful it is to be a Slytherin and about how we should try to get in, but the moment I don't he writes and tells me it's no big deal."

"Well, you're his son aren't you? Of course he's not going to be that upset."

"But it's not like my Dad!" Ron insisted. "When we disappoint him, he lets us know. You'd think that this would disappoint him."

Neville shrugged and replied, "I guess parents are weird. I wouldn't know. I live with my Gran."

"Right," Ron said. For a moment he wondered what exactly had happened to Neville to make him live with his gran. Why live with your grandmother when you can live with your parents? Yet he knew that such a question could be considered rude, so he said nothing and went back to staring at the parchment in his hand.

From somewhere in the castle, they could hear the bell ring, signaling that they had five minutes until class began. "History of Magic next," Ron said as he stood and shouldered his bag, "sixth floor. Better get going, Nev." Neville smiled at the little nickname Ron adopted for him and stood up to follow Ron indoors.

They were just passing through the Entrance Hall, when a familiar voice called to him from near the entrance to the dungeons. "Psst! Ron! Over here!" Ron stopped in his tracks. He could barely see him, but from the darkened corner near the staircase stood his brother. He was alone and looking incredibly anxious. Ron gave Neville an uncertain look, which his new friend returned. Ron was anxious that by going over there, he'd only be ridiculed by Draco. Neville was more nervous about Ron being late to class – Ron could tell because he checked his watch on his left wrist with a very panicky flick of his arm.

"I'll only be a minute," Ron promised him after a moment's contemplation. "Go up to class." Neville nodded, though he still looked nervous for Ron. It was only their first day of school, and already Ron was running the risk of being late to a class. However, he felt that repairing his relationship with his brother over this whole house mess was more important than attending a lecture over a subject he already knew all about due to their mother's subscription of _The Historical Wizard _(a world renowned magazine that discussed magical history in depth).

Once Neville had mounted the stairs, Ron turned and slowly walked toward the dungeons, where Draco was now positively crouching in order not to be seen.

"Hey," Draco said awkwardly. His voice was unusually high-pitched, and he did his best to avoid looking into Ron's eyes.

"Hello," Ron said back coldly.

Draco was silent for a moment, wallowing in some emotion that Ron couldn't quite place. "I'm sorry," he eventually mumbled. He was now looking down at his feet as though they were the most interesting things in the world.

"Are you saying that because of the Howler, or because you're really sorry?"

"I'm really sorry, Ron!" Draco insisted. He looked Ron full in the face, and Ron couldn't deny that his eyes were full of emotion. "I didn't want to be mean to you. I didn't really want you to leave the table yesterday, but there was a lot of pressure on me!"

"Oh, sure," Ron said in disbelief.

"No, really! You don't know what it's like to be a Slytherin, Ron."

"Oh, just rub it in, why don't you?" Ron snapped at him. He couldn't help it. He was so sick of Draco acting as though he had it so bad or that he had been wronged somehow. It was just like yesterday, when he had been annoyed that Ron had made friends with Harry, Hermione, and Neville. Ron was always in the wrong and Draco was always in the right. "You have it so hard, don't you Draco? Being in the house we both always wanted to be in surrounded by friends that you've had for years! Meanwhile, I have nothing to complain about. I'm only in the rival house to Slytherin, surrounded by strangers, and completely cut off from my brother!"

"I'm sorry!" Draco quickly said pleadingly. "That's not what I meant! Everyone in Slytherin is obsessed with hating Gryffindor! You should have heard the way they were talking when you were sorted! I couldn't let you sit there without them hating me too!"

"You have got to be joking!" Ron yelled. Draco started shushing him, but Ron kept on shouting anyway. Now that he was finally speaking with Draco, it felt good to take out his frustration on him. "I don't care what they said about me or what they could have said about you, we're brothers! There's nothing more important than that!"

"I know!" Draco said with a groan. "I know! You're right! I should have stuck up for you, but I didn't want them to hate me already."

"My entire house hates me, Draco. Think about that for a moment."

"The point is, Ron that I don't want to be at Hogwarts with us hating each other. We're brothers and we're supposed to love each other, no matter what house we're in. I want to be friends again."

"Did we ever stop?" Ron asked, trying hard not to sound resentful. It seemed to him that Draco had been contemplating cutting him off for good. No matter what his twin said, Ron was certain that it was the Howler that had made all the difference today. Draco had been embarrassed after breakfast and had spent the entire of first period stewing in his guilt. That was why he sought him out now – to make amends so that their parents didn't pull him out of Hogwarts.

"No," Draco replied. "But there's something else you have to understand. They've threatened me, Ron. The other Slytherins, that is. They've threatened to hex me if I'm friendly to you. So…I guess…what I'm trying to say is, they can't know that we're on good terms."

Ron looked him over with disbelief. Firstly, Ron hadn't even agreed yet that they were back to the way they used to be. Secondly, was Draco really saying what he thought he was saying? "So…you have to keep me – your own brother – a secret?" Ron asked, squinting at him as though he were trying to make him out from a distance.

"Just for a while!" Draco said. "Until they calm down a bit. And…well, I know it's a lot to ask since you were sitting with them this morning, but can you promise me that you won't be friends with both Granger and Potter? Longbottom is fine…he's a pureblood. But the Slytherins hate Potter for being put into Gryffindor and Granger is…Muggleborn." _At least he censored himself this time_, Ron thought ruefully.

"Well, it's not too much to ask me to stay away from Potter. He's a foul little git. But Hermione…she's my friend, Draco. I can't not be friends with her now. Besides, who said we were on good terms again? You were a right prat to me, Draco."

"I know! I'm sorry, Ron! Please, just do it for me," Draco begged. "She's not worth your time. Trust me. Just stay away from her and it'll be easier for me to stop keeping you a secret."

Ron couldn't believe this much was being asked of him. He and Draco were twin brothers! They should never have to go through this kind of rubbish! Yet Ron couldn't stand the anger that he had been feeling for the past day. He knew what he had to do, but he hated that he was making such a sacrifice to begin with, especially when it seemed that Draco hadn't made any himself.

"All right," he agreed in resignation.

* * *

Ron had been late for History of Magic, but Professor Binns – a ghost with the most boring voice and methods of teaching ever – didn't notice him sneak in. Hermione was looking at him worriedly and had moved her bag from a seat she had been saving for him, but he had sat instead at the back of the class, hating himself all the while. He avoided her in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts as well, and by dinnertime, he could tell that she was getting very nervous over his indifference. He knew he had to tell her.

Before dinner, he cornered her in the very same spot that Draco had spoken with him that morning. Hermione frowned at him and tapped her foot impatiently as they both waited for a group of gossiping Hufflepuff girls to pass by. Then he said in a rush, "I'm sorry about today."

"It's all right. Neville told me about your brother this morning," Hermione said. "Do you want to talk about it?" She looked at him skeptically, as though expecting him to decline.

"Actually, yeah I do," Ron said as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. "He told me that he can't openly be friends with me, because all the other Slytherins have threatened to hex him."

"What?" Hermione said, looking outraged. "That's horrible! You're his twin! You can't keep _that _a secret!"

"I know," Ron said. "But I agreed. I don't want him to get hurt. And…well, he asked me to stop being friends with you, too."

"Why? Because of my parents?" Hermione looked horrorstruck and miserable. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"More or less," he said sadly. Hermione's lip quivered and he quickly put a hand out onto her shoulder to quell her tears. "It's all right Hermione. I'm not going to stop being your friend, okay? It's just…well…Draco can't know that." He winced as he watched his own words wash over her. Ron knew he was being horrible to her. After all, it felt terrible for Draco to do this very same thing to him. He barely knew Hermione, and already he was hiding her away, acting as though he was ashamed of her.

"You want to keep our friendship a secret?" Hermione asked. "But that's what Draco's doing to you!"

"I know," Ron said. "But it's only until Draco stops keeping me a secret. Then he can get to know you without people judging him and I won't have to hide you anymore."

Hermione began pacing, deep in thought. She bit her lip and twisted her hands around nervously. Ron knew he was asking too much of her already. He heard her mutter under her breath, "This is insane!"

"I know," Ron agreed. "And I hate having to do this. It's just…I don't want to lose Draco, and I don't want to lose you. Other than him, you're the best friend I have here!"

It was either what he said or the look in his eyes that persuaded her that this was the right course of action. Or perhaps it was the fact that Hermione was feeling just as lonesome as Ron. She had spent the entire day answering questions dutifully and proving that she was the smartest person in Gryffindor, which had only annoyed people. One by one, everyone in the house had started ignoring her throughout the day, including Harry, who had eaten breakfast with her only that morning. Whatever the reason, Hermione eventually nodded and said, "All right. As long as you promise that you won't be mean to me or anything. Just…avoid me during class and we'll spend time in the common room afterward. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Ron said in relief. He gave Hermione another reassuring pat on the shoulder, then turned to go into the Great Hall, sitting with Neville once he reached the Gryffindor table. It hurt, however, when Hermione sat all by herself at the end of the bench. Harry, he saw with annoyance, was seated with the Weasley twins and one of their older friends and didn't spare a second glance for the girl he had had breakfast with that morning. Because of Draco, Ron realized with despair, Hermione now appeared friendless.

* * *

**What did you think? How do think things will go between Draco and Ron/Ron and Hermione now that they're trying to keep their friendships secret? Did you see any of this coming? Let me know. And before you say it, yes I know both Draco and Harry are being prats. They're both so stubborn right now. I guess in a weird way, Ron has kind of hurt both of them (though I definitely think Draco has less of a reason to complain). Up next: A chat with Dumbledore!**


	6. Classes

_**Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it's taken this long to upload a new chapter of my fan fiction. I've been very busy, with trips, new jobs, applications to even better jobs, applications to grad school, and my own original story that I've been working on. I finally found some inspiration this week after watching some interviews with Emma Watson, so you can thank her for inspiring me. As usual, tell me what you think!**_

* * *

_**Chapter Five:**_

_**Classes**_

The rest of the week flew by in one, rather lonesome blur. During school hours, Ron had to pretend that he was not on speaking terms with Draco and that he was indifferent to Hermione. The only friend he was allowed to have was Neville, and while he was kind and understanding of everything, he wasn't particularly the most stimulating company. He knew nothing about Quidditch, felt either too shy or too unsure of himself to add much to whatever conversation Ron was trying to have with him, and was constantly putting himself down. It was rather taxing trying to boost Neville Longbottom's self-esteem all the time.

After classes had ended for the day, he would find time to spend with Draco, though they had to meet up at places where Crabbe, Goyle, and other Slytherins who might care wouldn't be. The library was their most frequent hideout. They were never there for very long, since Draco's absence was bound to go noticed after a while, and more than once they had to hide quickly from Pansy Parkinson, who had taken a liking to Draco and was prone to tailing him.

Once Draco would go back to his Slytherin friends, Ron would then retreat to the common room and get his fill of Hermione for the day. This was the only time of the day where he felt he could truly be himself. Although Hermione had a tendency to put school before anything else, she had taken to getting her studying done during Ron's time with Draco, which left the majority of their evenings together spent joking with one another and having intense debates about which classes would be the most useful when they grew up (usually these arguments were started by Hermione, but Ron played along, since it was the only time they got to speak with one another openly).

The entirety of Gryffindor house had guessed as to what was going on already. Ron behaved as though Hermione did not exist beyond the portrait of the Fat Lady, so there must be a reason as to why they behaved so friendly within the confines of the common room. The Weasley twins had already circulated by Tuesday evening a rumor that they were in love and had to keep it a secret in order for Lucius not to find out. Ron didn't know how they knew who his father was, but he quickly quelled the rumors Thursday night by saying quite loudly to them, "That's bloody disgusting…we're only eleven!" and throwing them a filthy look. After that, the rumors became much more tame and accurate.

Ron didn't care what they thought, though. It didn't matter to him that the Gryffindors saw what was going on, since none of them were on speaking terms with the Slytherins, so the chances of Draco finding out were slim. And besides, his business was private. They could think whatever they wanted, but they would never hear a word about it from his lips. This secret friendship was strictly between him, Hermione, and Neville (who Ron had spilled everything to since he felt Neville genuinely could be trusted).

Other than the confusing mess that surrounded the three friendships he now had going on, school was both fun and difficult. Having been raised in a magical home and being taught by Narcissa, Ron had never had to deal with homework and deadlines before. Even on the basic things like writing and arithmetic, Ron had always just practiced them freely. Now he had a set schedule to follow, assignments for most of his classes, and a grading system to contend with. It was all a little too much to handle, but he felt that he was adjusting well enough.

So far, his favorite class was either Charms or Astronomy. He liked Charms, because most of the spells that Hermione had told him were in the book seemed the most useful. Even though they had only had one Astronomy lesson on Wednesday so far, Ron had loved it, simply because it had been nice to sit outside in the starlight. He couldn't help but wonder what they would do in inclement weather, though. Would class be cancelled or would they sit in the Great Hall, where the enchanted ceiling was bound to provide them with a small glimpse at the stars and planets outside?

He had also thought that he had narrowed down his least favorite classes. On Monday afternoon, Professor McGonagall had set them to turning a match into a needle, and nobody but Hermione seemed to do well. By Friday, Ron was still making futile attempts to do it in the common room before breakfast, but was coming up short, even with Hermione's tutelage. He also rather hated History of Magic, not because he was doing poorly, but because it was hard to stay awake during lessons. Hermione seemed to be the only student who was impervious to Professor Binns' dull, droning voice. Not once had Ron seen her eyes droop with exhaustion in that class.

"Today is our first lesson with the Slytherins," Hermione said as matter-of-factly as possible Friday morning. Ron looked up from the match that he was trying to turn into a needle to where Hermione was sitting. She was once again scribbling away in what Ron now knew was her diary, and it astounded Ron that she was capable of carrying on full length conversations while simultaneously writing like that.

"I know," he replied eyeing her suspiciously. He knew she was getting antsy to be able to openly be friends again and he had a feeling that they were about to go into that subject once again. They had only had this arrangement for four days now and already they had discussed the issue at least five times. It always ended the same way: Ron would assure Hermione that this whole ordeal would be over with soon and Hermione would resolutely nod her head, though Ron could always see the sadness in her eyes. She wasn't a very good liar.

"Well…I was just wondering how you and Draco are going to go about this. Will you be ignoring each other or is he finally going to act like you two are related?" Hermione stopped writing after finishing her spiel, looking as though she was getting increasingly irritated with the whole situation.

"Well, it is only the first week, Hermione. I guess I have to show Crabbe and Goyle and all the others that I'm the same person I always was."

"You were never that person!" Hermione finally snapped. She looked livid. "You only pretended that you were something you're not, because they were the only people you ever spent time with when you were a boy. You don't agree with them on anything except that you want Draco in your life. You have more of a right to him than they do, Ron!"

"I know, but-"

"No, you obviously don't know. You're letting them dictate how much time you can and can't spend with your own twin brother! It's ridiculous. Any person who would let their friends come before family is seriously messed up." Ron didn't know what to say. He had never seen Hermione so passionate about anything like this, and she was obsessed with school. It had been hard to see just how much she had been bottling up all week, but apparently she had repressed a lot of feelings – even more than Ron had. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's not fair that Draco would keep his friendliness toward you a secret. Just like it's not fair that you're doing it to me."

"I'm sorry," Ron said lamely before repeating the usual mantra he had started to live by. "It's only for a little while."

"I can't do this forever, Ron," she replied. "I need actual friends and I can't find any if I have to work around yours and Draco's schedules." He watched her abruptly stand up, snapping her diary shut, and march up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Left alone to stew in the words she had parted with him on, he wondered how long he would be able to take Draco hiding his love for his Gryffindor twin brother.

Hermione didn't even look at him when she came down to breakfast that morning. Ron had sat next to Neville as usual, who was slurping up goblet after goblet of pumpkin juice and sweating profusely. Ron knew that Neville was worried about finally having a class with Professor Snape. It was no secret that the man infinitely preferred Slytherins to Gryffindors. Ron was just hoping that all of those times that he had visited the Malfoy Manor would make him kinder to him. After all, Gryffindor or not, Ron was still a Malfoy.

"What's Hermione's problem?" Neville asked as he watched her pass.

Ron looked around to make sure nobody nearby was listening. When it appeared that no one was, he said, "She's mad at me over this whole arrangement we have going on."

"What arrangement?" a voice nearby asked. Ron inwardly cursed as he realized that Harry Potter had indeed been eavesdropping. He must have overlooked Harry; it was easily done, since he always disregarded him nowadays.

"None of your business, Potter!" Ron snapped looking up and glaring at the boy who was sitting a full three feet away, across the table. The Weasley twins – who had been blessed enough to now be able to call Harry one of their best friends – were on his other side and seemingly had no clue what was going on. They were too busy teasing their older brother Percy.

"It is my business!" Harry argued back. "Why are you so nice to her in the common room and then ignore her everywhere else? It doesn't seem like you're a very good friend."

"Neither are you! The moment you realized she was smart you stopped sitting with her. In fact, I haven't seen you speak a word to her in days! So don't tell me that I'm a bad friend." Ron stood up, grabbing his plate of sausage and eggs and turning to Neville. "Come on, let's sit somewhere else." They moved a little way down the table, closer to where Hermione was and far from Harry. Neville offered Harry an apology before going and it utterly irked Ron. "Don't apologize to him!" he snapped irritably. "He's a prat."

"He's not so bad," Neville mumbled, but Ron ignored him, preferring to pretend that Neville hated Harry just as much as he did. Instead, he went straight into explaining about how impatient Hermione was becoming.

"I don't understand. It's only been a few days. I told her it would take a while!"

"Yeah, but Ron, I don't think that's her point," Neville said sagely. "I think it bothers her more that you're putting up with Draco keeping you a secret. I mean, you two are brothers! I don't see him sacrificing anything for you."

"I know!" Ron said. "I know that I should be upset about Draco asking me to do this, but I'm not. It's worth it. I miss spending every day with him." He looked over at his friend, hoping to see understanding in his eyes, but he didn't. Neville instead looked somber and surprisingly argumentative. He almost appeared as though he was going to say something else, but Ron cut him off before he could even utter a syllable. "You wouldn't understand. You're not a twin."

They spoke no more of it, but ate their breakfast in silence, Ron deep in thought over just how much he would allow Draco to put him through and Neville worrying over their first class with Snape. Five minutes before the start of their only lesson of the day (Gryffindors had double potions on Friday, followed by an afternoon off. Ron had wanted to spend his afternoon with Draco, but the Slytherins had Herbology with the Ravenclaws), Hermione suddenly shot out of her seat, cursing slightly and rushing off.

"Where is she going? We have potions soon!" Ron exclaimed rather loudly. It wasn't like Hermione to just up and bolt before a class. He was a little worried when the students were dismissed from breakfast and Hermione was still not back, and absolutely terrified when Snape opened his dungeon door for the class to enter fifteen minutes later and she was still missing. What if something had happened to her? Would she be all right? _If she's not here in ten minutes, I'll ask for a toilet break and go search for her,_ he told himself, not even noticing Draco and Crabbe laughing at him as he walked by and took his seat behind a desk toward the back.

He resolutely put his cauldron upon the desk, staring at the door nervously. Neville sat next to him, looking just as worried, but Ron wasn't sure if it was because of Hermione or out of fear of Professor Snape. Harry came down the aisle on the side of the dungeon that the Gryffindors had taken and sat behind them. Ron noticed that he looked worried too.

"All right, settle down," Snape said, and at once all chatter ceased. "I will do a quick register of the people present and then we will begin. Lavender Brown!" Ron watched as each person who was called upon raised their hand, and his stomach twisted into knots as Snape drew closer and closer to Hermione's name.

"Hermione Granger!" he said, looking up from the list toward the Gryffindor side of the dungeon. As though right on cue, Hermione trudged in, her cauldron in tow, her bag dangling from her arm precariously.

"I'm here, sir!" she said in a rush. She sounded out of breath. Ron was certain that she had run here, which would have been no easy feat with the heavy pewter cauldron in her hands. "I'm sorry, but I forgot my cauldron and book in my dormitory this morning and I had to go get it."

Snape eyed her expressionlessly and asked, "Do you make it a habit to be late to classes?"

"No, sir!" she answered quickly. "Actually, I'm quite punctual."

"Five points from Gryffindor," he answered in a monotone voice. "I won't accept tardiness, even from people who are 'quite punctual.' Now take a seat." Hermione looked like she was going to cry; never had she had a point taken from her. Blinking back tears, she moved into the room, searching for a place to sit. Ron saw with dismay that Draco and Crabbe were laughing at her rather openly and that Snape was ignoring it. Ron gritted his teeth; why did Draco have to be such a git all the time? How was Hermione ever going to be friends with him if all he did was make fun of her?

What was worse than Draco and Crabbe, though, was everyone else. Nobody would let Hermione sit with them. They told her there was either not enough room or that they were saving the seat for a friend (which Hermione had to have known was ridiculous – all of the Gryffindors were now in the class). Finally, Harry scooted his bag off of the bench and invited her to his table, though it was several uncomfortable seconds before he had taken the initiative. Ron twisted in his seat and gave Hermione a consoling look, but she didn't see him, choosing to stare down at her hands.

Snape continued the roster, stopping every few seconds to look up and get a good look at the faces of his students. He smirked while saying, "Neville Longbottom," and all Neville could do was squeak awkwardly and raise a trembling hand. It bothered Ron that Snape seemed to enjoy Neville's reaction. He also smirked while calling out Draco's name, but it was more of an appreciative, fatherly expression than one of hatred.

Finally, Snape said, "Ronaldus Malfoy!" and looked in his direction. Ron raised his hand needlessly, and for a few moments Snape simply stared at him. His face was surprisingly cold, as though he was displeased that he had to have this second Malfoy – the Gryffindor – in his classroom. Ron could feel his ears turning hot and going red with embarrassed fury, but Snape seemed to not notice and quickly moved on.

"Ah, yes…Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity_," Snape said shortly after calling out Ron's name. Everyone twisted in their seats to get a good view of Harry. Even Ron couldn't help but look at him. His face was pink with mortification, but instead of looking away from Snape or raising his hand to get the roll call over with, Harry simply stared him in the eye. Try as Ron might to loathe Harry with all his strength, he couldn't help but admire his nerve in that moment.

What Snape did next was probably the cruelest of all. Randomly, he decided to drill Harry on potions trivia. Ron only knew some of it – the part about bezoars fighting the effects of most poisons, because his parents had kept a stock of them at home just in case Ron or Draco ingested the wrong potion by mistake. But the rest was stuff even older students probably wouldn't know. It came as a surprise to him that Hermione raised her hand dutifully to every question so that she could answer them, but Snape overlooked her, only having eyes for Harry, whom he seemed determined to torture.

The rest of the class was horrific. They were set to working in pairs on a potion to cure boils. Ron, of course, worked with Neville, which he quickly realized was a grand mistake. He was very clumsy with ingredients and knocked over their bag of snake fangs multiple times. Every time Professor Snape passed by their cauldron he rolled his eyes and gave Ron a disbelieving look, as though ashamed of him. It was enough to make Ron's blood boil.

They were just finishing up, and Ron was finally feeling confident. Their potion was the clear blue that it was supposed to be and Ron felt well enough about it to say to Neville, "Put the porcupine quills in. I'll just put the rest of the stuff in the store cupboard." It was a huge mistake. He should have done it himself. Ron certainly didn't have problems with nervousness like Neville did. While he was gone, there was a loud hissing noise, a pop, and several screams. He quickly ran back and saw that in the few seconds that he was gone, Neville had somehow managed to melt Ron's cauldron into a lump of molten metal.

"You idiot!" Snape hissed at him while simultaneously waving his wand and vanishing the potion. "Can't you read? You put the porcupine quills in before taking the cauldron off the heat!" Ron was sure Neville didn't hear a word of it, though. He was covered in the pale blue liquid and his skin was steadily breaking out in the very boils they had been trying to cure. People everywhere were standing on their chairs and inspecting holes in their shoes. Only Ron remained untouched.

"Malfoy!" Snape snapped in his direction. "Take your pathetic excuse for a partner up to the hospital wing!" Ron could feel his own nostrils flaring with rage as he pushed forward, gingerly grabbed Neville's arm of his robes and slowly guided his friend out of the classroom.

"Who does he think he is?!" he asked moodily when they approached the marble staircase and were well out of earshot of the professor. "He was never this bad when he visited my parents at home! I mean, he never said anything to us, but I didn't think he was mean. I can't believe how nasty he was!" But once again, Neville didn't seem to hear. He was shaking and sobbing from pain, struggling miserably to climb the stairs. Every step seemed to only increase the agony he was in. Ron wished he knew a quick route to the hospital wing, but he barely knew how to get there as it was.

On the third floor, they ran into Fred and George Weasley, who were both staring at a locked door with curiosity and whispering excitedly. Ron ignored their weirdness and the fact that he rather disliked them and approached the twins urgently. "Hey! Do you guys know a quick way to the hospital wing? Neville's hurt!"

The twins jumped at the sound of Ron's voice and gave him a very fleeting, hateful look. However, when they saw Neville was covered in boils and was stumbling pathetically beside Ron, they seemed to change their attitudes and adopted kind, helpful faces. "Yeah, right this way!" George called to them while walking toward them. Halfway down the hall, he pushed aside a tapestry, and when Ron and Neville drew near, they were both surprised to find a set of stairs that led far upward into the castle.

"Takes you right to the seventh floor," Fred said with a grin. Clearly he was impressed with the look of wonder on Ron's face. Fred mounted the stairs to lead the way, while George took hold of Neville's other arm and helped balance him. Neville was on the verge of passing out.

"Let me guess," George grunted under Neville's weight as they climbed the staircase. "Potions?"

"Yeah," Ron said, his breath rushing out quickly now with exertion. "He put the porcupine quills in our cure for boils in while the cauldron was still on the fire."

"Why don't you have boils on you?" Fred asked, turning back to look at Ron suspiciously. He fought hard not to scowl at the twins – it wouldn't do to be rude to the people who were helping him at the moment. He didn't like feeling like he was being mistrusted, especially since Neville was one of his best friends now. Ron would never do anything to hurt him.

"I was putting the rest of the ingredients back in the store cupboard," Ron replied as calmly as he could. Fred still glanced at him suspiciously, and Ron could have sworn he heard George give a snort of disbelief from the other side of Neville.

"It's true!" Neville suddenly snapped at them both in a voice that was surprisingly strong for someone who was in so much pain. "Ron's a very great friend and he would never tamper with a potion to hurt me! Ow…" Neville's face had contorted in his anger and one of his boils under his eye was now swelling ominously, as though it was about to pop.

"Calm down, Neville, you'll hurt yourself!" Ron said in a worried voice. Neville did as he was told. He fell silent and leaned a little more toward Ron's side, as though to show solidarity. Ron secretly wished he wouldn't – Neville weighed quite a bit more than he did – but he didn't say anything about it. Meanwhile, Fred and George had the good sense to look ashamed of themselves. It was clear that Neville respected Ron, which was something that most Gryffindors wouldn't be able to understand. Yet if the nicest boy in Gryffindor could find something good and trustworthy in the wannabe Slytherin, then he must have been alright.

"I bet Snape was mad," George eventually said to cover up the awkward silence. Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes, hating his potions professor. Wouldn't it have been more helpful if Snape would have been gentle and kind with Neville? After all, it was the first potion that they had ever worked on. To merely yell and call Neville names for misreading one step was ridiculous.

Fred laughed suddenly and Ron looked up at the step above him. Fred was walking backward up the stairs and was watching Ron's face with pure glee. "Don't like Snape, then?"

"He's a foul git," Ron said hatefully. "He treated Neville like he was worthless just because he messed up one potion! I don't see how anyone could like him!"

"Now, that's not a very Slytherin attitude, is it?" George said. "We thought you would have loved him!"

Now Ron understood. Even though he could barely see George's face above Neville's head, he could tell the older boy was grinning meaningfully at his twin. They both looked amused that Ron was more of a Gryffindor than he had originally thought. He could feel his ears going red with embarrassment and he mumbled, "Well, I'm not in Slytherin, am I?"

"That's the spirit!" Fred exclaimed as he turned around and quickened his pace up the steps. "It's good to see us Gryffindors are rubbing off on you!"

Ron didn't have the heart to argue and say that he had made up his mind on Snape without any intervention from his housemates. It was easier to just let them believe that he was changing due to their influence. If his opinion was changing, because of any of the Gryffindors, it would have been Hermione or Neville who deserved the credit. They had both done a spectacular job of making him feel like he belonged, even though he had been downright distraught when he had been sorted. They didn't care if he was angry or resentful. They gave him a chance anyway, which was more than any other Gryffindor had done.

Ron, Neville, and the Weasley twins eventually made it to the hospital wing, and Neville (who had been struggling the whole way up the stairs) practically ran within, shouting for Madame Pomfrey and begging for assistance. The three other boys stood back and watched as she fetched potions and worked her magic on them. When she finally had done what she could and told Neville to lie back, she rounded on them.

"Why aren't you in class?"

"I have the rest of the day off," Ron replied, putting his hands up defensively.

"Class was cancelled," Fred and George said in unison, but Ron got the faint impression that they were lying. Madame Pomfrey eyed them suspiciously, squinting at them so darkly that Ron couldn't help but squirm. Fred and George seemed unperturbed.

"Right," she finally said back to them. "Off you go! Mr. Longbottom needs his rest."

"I can't stay with him?" Ron asked. He hadn't really had any plans for the afternoon and had been intending to spend it with Neville, since Draco had classes and Hermione seemed determined to ignore him.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. It would be for the best that you return to your common room. He needs sleep now." Ron allowed a sigh to escape his lips, but turned on his heel resolutely. He knew that Madame Pomfrey was right. Neville was in a lot of pain and probably wouldn't feel up to chatting with Ron at the moment. Still, he hated the idea of passing his first free afternoon alone.

"Hey, Ron, wait up!" George Weasley shouted from the entrance to the hospital wing. Ron was so shocked that the twins seemed to be jogging to catch up with him that he stopped in his tracks, looking at them with his jaw dropped. Fred seemed to get a kick out of Ron's disbelief and grinned to himself merrily. George – who Ron had decided was the more down-to-earth of the practical jokers – didn't seem to notice.

"What?" he asked them.

"Well, you have the afternoon off, and we don't really fancy going to class. Why not go sneak into the forest with us to see if we can catch a glimpse of a centaur?"

Ron looked from one twin to the other, unsure if they were genuine or were joking with him. "You're serious?" Ron asked. Fred nodded emphatically and George shrugged as if to ask why not. Feeling terrible that he would have to let them down, Ron said, "I can't go into the forest."

"Scared?" Fred asked. "It's really not as bad as Dumbledore makes it sound. I mean, there are spiders."

"And snakes," George added.

"And werewolves."

"And I think there's a vampire in there somewhere."

"But it's nothing George and I can't handle," Fred finally said smugly, brandishing his wand like a sword.

"Yeah, I don't know if that's entirely true, mate," George said, rubbing his chin as though he was deep in thought.

"Probably not, but you only live once. Am I right, Malfoy?"

"Well, yeah," Ron agreed. "It's not because I'm scared, though. I can't go into the forest, because being outside gives me a headache. I'm sick, and I know my Mum and Dad would be upset if I made it worse." He hadn't exactly been planning on telling the twins about his illness, but they were being so nice to him that it just slipped out. Not to mention that he actually was a little afraid. The illness was a good cover for fear.

Fred glanced at him skeptically. "What kind of an illness?"

"I don't know. No one does. I have to take a potion for it once a month, then I feel really sick for a week or so, then it gets better. The sunlight hurts my head and eyes. Sorry."

"That's all right," George suddenly said. Fred seemed taken aback – it had looked as though he was about to start teasing Ron some, but George had intervened before that could happen. "We'll go to the common room with you, then."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Ron blurted out. Only a half an hour ago, they had been glaring at him contemptuously as he had trudged up to them with Neville dangling from his shoulder. Now they seemed completely intent upon remaining in his company.

"Because Neville likes you," George answered.

Ron was looking between them with confusion, when Fred elaborated. "We figure if Neville, the nicest first year in all of Gryffindor, thinks you're a great bloke, we ought to give you a chance."

Ron couldn't say why, but he found himself smiling brightly as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room with his two new friends.

The afternoon was spent in a marvelously happy manner. Hermione eventually returned from the library (where she had been hiding all day, secretly hoping Ron would find her so they could talk out their little spat) and took a seat with the two Weasleys and the Malfoy. They were quickly becoming friends. Ron had laughed hysterically when he learned the real reason the twins weren't in class was that they both faked cutting their hands on their puffapod vines using Muggle fake blood that they had bought in a shop near their home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Hermione, of course, didn't seem to approve of such behavior and hid behind her History of Magic book in order to show her disapproval. Meanwhile, Ron lamented upon just what a git Snape truly was (since it seemed to make the Weasleys giddy with excitement – no Malfoy in the history of Hogwarts had ever disapproved of Severus Snape) and then showed off his wizard chess skills.

"Check mate!" Ron called for the fourth time around six o'clock that night. He had forgotten all about meeting up with Draco, though it was now too late to do anything about it. Besides, he was having too much fun with the twins to be bothered. It felt nice to have people approve of him for a change. Even Harry had put away his annoyance with Ron for a while to sit with his friends and watch Ron wallop them at chess.

"Damn it!" Fred shouted, watching his king get bludgeoned to death by Ron's knight. Hermione looked at him aghast, not expecting the foul language, but nobody took any notice of her. "How are you this good?! You're better than our Dad is, and he was the Devon county champion four years running! Beat Xenophilius Lovegood after three hours of play once."

"I don't know," Ron said with a shrug. "I just am."

Before Fred or George could reply, Percy Weasley's voice cut in saying, "Malfoy!" Ron scowled, but looked up at him silently, avoiding complaining for fear that it would make Fred and George dislike him again. "Professor Dumbledore sent me to tell you he would like to see you in his office."

His voice was so self-important and snobbish that both Fred and George snickered. "He asked you personally, Percy?" Fred asked.

"Don't forget, Fred: Percy's a prefect. He's got friends in high places now," George answered in kind. The twins broke down into laughter, and Ron saw that Harry was struggling to keep his composure as well. It occurred to him that maybe Fred and George were just as put off by Percy as the rest of Gryffindor was. After all, it was a little tiring constantly hearing him speak so highly of himself.

Percy's jaw jutted out in annoyance, and he amended his statement by saying, "Professor McGonagall sent me to tell you that Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office, Malfoy."

"It's Ron," he corrected Percy, hating that he was being referred to by his last name. All the same, he couldn't help but look around the small circle that had formed around him since his arrival at Gryffindor tower.

"First week at Hogwarts and you're already going to Dumbledore's office," Fred said with a grin. "You've made us proud."

"Why would he want to see me, though? I haven't done anything other than take Neville to the hospital wing today."

"Maybe he thinks you did it?" Harry suggested while looking at Ron with the same suspicious stare that Fred and George had given him earlier. Ron glared at him darkly.

"I would never do anything like that!"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Neville's my friend!" Ron growled, standing up, his fists clenched.

"Calm down, the pair of you," Fred interfered. "Ron's all right, Harry. Neville told us so."

This didn't seem to work. Harry glared at Fred for defending Ron and then stomped off. Hermione looked at Ron sadly, seeming to forget just how angry she was with him at the moment. "Lousy prat," Ron said with a sneer. He hated that this was what his brief friendship with Harry had turned into, but at this point, he really felt like it was all Harry's fault. After all, it had been Ron who had just been trying to get along with Harry a few moments ago.

"He's really not that bad, mate," George said awkwardly. Ron closed his eyes and counted to five - something his mother always told him to do when he got frustrated - and turned to look at him.

"You know...I'm rather sick of hearing that about him." George had the good sense to look sheepish, mumbled something and looked down at Fred's shattered king on the chessboard.

Ron had never been to Dumbledore's office before. Actually, as far as he knew, none of the first years had. He didn't even know where it was, but was shocked when the walk didn't take all that long. Usually going anywhere new involved some sort of journey that lasted ages. That was why he had been late for the first couple days to several classes, at least. He wasn't expecting for Percy Weasley (who spent the entire walk to Dumbledore's office commending Ron on keeping his cool while being provoked, although Ron really didn't think that he had) to lead him to the statue of the stone gargoyle on the seventh floor that Ron passed every time he left the common room.

"Is this it?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Yes," Percy said. He turned to look at the gargoyle, puffed his chest out importantly and said, "Pick 'n' Mix." The stone gargoyle sprang to life, hopping aside to reveal a set of stairs that were spiraling up into what appeared to be one of Hogwarts' many towers. Ron wanted to ask what Pick 'n' Mix was, but his fear over why Dumbledore could have possibly called him to his office made him clam up. Maybe Harry had been right. What if Dumbledore _did_ think that he had caused Neville's accident in potions today? Would he be given detention? Would he be expelled?

His heart racing, Ron took one step upon the staircase and was shocked when it started revolving upward, carrying him to the top with no effort. "Good luck!" Percy called, and all Ron could do was give a faint chuckle in response.

When he reached the top, he found himself staring at a large oak door. Unsure of what to do, he reached for the handle, twisted it, and pushed it open a crack. From the sliver of open door, he could see that the room was decorated in similar colors to Gryffindor Tower - unsurprising, since Dumbledore had been a very proud Gryffindor in his day - and that there were several whirring and whistling instruments upon tables on either side of the room, near tall bookcases that Ron assumed served as walls. Above the bookcases were portrait after portrait of all the old headmasters of Hogwarts. A large scarlet phoenix dozed lazily upon a perch next to a very ornate desk that was neatly arranged in a way that made Ron wonder if Dumbledore had hired Hermione to be his cleaning lady.

Standing behind the desk was Dumbledore himself, although he hadn't noticed Ron's arrival. He was too busy speaking with one of the portraits, highly engrossed in their private discussion. "Yes, but I really do think that this is something we shouldn't burden him with now," Dumbledore was saying. The man in the portrait - a portly gentleman with thick sideburns - saw Ron and nodded at him with an expression similar to one Draco would wear when they were little and their mother had caught them doing something naughty.

Ron's stomach clenched, and he wondered if he maybe should have knocked. He expected Dumbledore to whirl around, shout at him, and then expel him for being horridly nosy. But he didn't. Instead, Albus Dumbledore turned regally on his heel and offered Ron a very genuine and kind smile. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy," he said, "have a seat."

Ron took the chair opposite of the one that Dumbledore started to occupy and said, "Sorry if I interrupted you, Professor." He looked at the portrait, giving it an apologetic nod.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied. "Though I will suggest that if you ever are summoned to my office again to please knock, as I do like to keep my affairs private." He smiled again, a twinkle lighting his eye and serving to make Ron feel slightly more comfortable with the fact that he was here and had so rudely intruded.

"Yes, sir," Ron said.

"You are, no doubt, wondering why I asked you to come here tonight," Dumbledore stated.

"You think that I sabotaged Neville's and my potion and caused it to explode all over him," Ron blurted out, looking down at his hands and feeling oddly ashamed, considering that he had done no such thing.

"Oh, no, my dear boy," Dumbledore said. There was a hint of amusement to his voice which made Ron's head snap to attention, and he stared at his headmaster as though it were too good to be true. "While Professor Snape did relate to me that your potion most unfortunately erupted during class, he assured me that Neville's injuries were his fault and not yours."

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt like he should defend Neville. After all, they were in the back of the class and the instructions were a little hard to make out from where they had been. "He was just nervous, I think," Ron said. "Snape is a little-"

"_Professor_ Snape, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore cut in.

"Right, er, _Professor_ Snape is a little intimidating. Neville just got too excited, I guess."

"Yes, that happens to the best of us," Dumbledore replied. Then, sensing that they needed to get back on topic, he said, "No, you are not here because of Neville. I brought you here tonight, because I was wondering how your first week at Hogwarts has gone."

Really? That was it? Ron stared at Professor Dumbledore in bewilderment, unsure of what to make of the man. He wondered for the tiniest of moments if maybe he did this with every first year, but that thought was immediately dashed by Fred and George's reactions to Ron being sent to his office. If he did that with all the first years, surely they would have known why he was being called here.

Seeming to sense that Ron was confused, Dumbledore elaborated. "I noticed that when the Sorting Hat placed you into Gryffindor, you did not seem pleased. I was wondering how you are adjusting and if I need to write any letters to your parents regarding the importance of Gryffindor or maybe your brother's behavior."

Oh. That made sense. Ron didn't know where to begin. Should he tell Dumbledore everything? It seemed strange that this older man was giving Ron an opportunity to confide in him, especially since he was more than just a teacher. He was the headmaster. "Er, well...at first, I guess I was upset. Actually, I _know_ I was upset. The Sorting Hat said that it usually allowed students to pick where they went in the end, but that I needed to be with, 'the rest of them' so it put me into Gryffindor."

"Do you know what it meant by that?" Dumbledore asking, the twinkle in his eye still there, although Ron thought he saw a hint of worry behind it.

"I think...maybe...it was talking about Hermione Granger and Neville. I met them on the train and we had a good time. I think it saw that they were Gryffindors and that I am less like a Slytherin than I thought. They were quicker to accept me than any of the Slytherins besides my brother, so the hat put me where I'd be most comfortable."

The little flicker of worry dissipated from Dumbledore's featured and he simply nodded at what Ron said, clasping his hands together and holding them up to his face, his index fingers positioned upwards making a t-shape as they pressed against his lips. His posture indicated that he wanted Ron to keep speaking, so Ron very awkwardly continued. "At first, Draco stopped talking to me. Actually, I tried to sit with him at the Slytherin table halfway through the start of term feast, but he told me to leave. Then my mum and dad sent us letters. Draco got a howler...you probably heard of that."

"Yes, something about you two being brothers and Draco being homeschooled if he was mean to you about Gryffindor," Dumbledore said quickly to show he understood.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Dad's letter to me said that they were proud of me and it made me feel better. I always thought they would hate me if I got into any other house besides Slytherin. But they don't."

"Did he tell you anything else?" Again, for whatever reason, Ron noticed that there was an awkward sort of worry in Dumbledore's eyes, and it caused him to feel ill at ease.

"Just that he wanted me to be friends with Harry Potter," Ron replied nervously. "Though that's never going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Harry and I just don't get on well," Ron said. "I mean, we did on the train. But I guess he was mad at me for how I acted when I was sorted into Gryffindor, and it's just gotten worse over the week. He's annoying."

Dumbledore contemplated for a moment, staring upon Ron as though he were a puzzle that was waiting to be solved. It made Ron uncomfortable in a way he never had been before. "I agree with your father," he eventually said. "It most definitely would be best for you two to make amends and-"

"But why?!" Ron said in a very argumentative voice. It bothered him how much Harry Potter was being pushed upon him, how even the headmaster seemed gung-ho the shove them together and force them to become the best of friends. "I mean, yes, he's famous and we had a good time on the train, but that doesn't mean that we'll get along at all! We don't like each other! Can't that be enough for everyone to understand?!"

Dumbledore took Ron's shouting in good stride. He simply looked mildly amused and allowed Ron to get all his frustration out. It bothered Ron that he didn't seem to take him seriously, choosing to smile at him placidly from behind his fingers, the twinkle in his eye returning in full force. Then, as soon as Ron exhausted his supply of words, Dumbledore said in the calmest voice, "Let's just say, I think you and Harry need each other. More than you know."

It took Ron off-guard, and he found himself staring open-mouthed at the headmaster, trying to decipher his advice. Why would he and Harry Potter need each other? Was there something that Ron didn't know that someone wasn't telling him? "But why?" he asked again, this time in as quiet a voice as Dumbledore had used.

"I do not have all the answers, Mr. Malfoy. At least not at the present."

Ron nodded, though part of him wasn't sure that this was true. Professor Dumbledore seemed to know a lot about him; even more than he knew about himself, actually. But there was no arguing with the greatest wizard of all time. Ron allowed Dumbledore to get away with what he wasn't telling him, and instead stood up to leave in silence, when Dumbledore said.

"Before you go, Mr. Malfoy, tell me how your brother has been treating you since the howler." Ron felt reluctant to say, but took his seat regardless, trying to find the right words in which to tell Dumbledore that he didn't want to talk about it. "It is my business, after all," Dumbledore added, as though he had read Ron's mind. "You are students in my school, and if I can stop any bullying, I would like to do so immediately."

"He's not bullying me," Ron said. "He's been really nice to me, actually. It's just…well, we're keeping our friendship a secret, because he doesn't want to be hexed by the other Slytherins."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I have to keep my friendship with Hermione a secret too, because Draco asked me to not be friends with her, because…er…"

"She's Muggleborn?" Dumbledore supplied.

"Yes, I suppose." Of course, there was no supposing about it. Ron knew full well that her lineage was precisely why Draco had forbidden them to be friends.

"And how is she handling being kept a secret?" Once again, Dumbledore was looking at him contemplatively, and Ron had to look over at the phoenix on the perch in order to keep talking with any comfort.

"She doesn't like it. I don't either, but I want my brother to be able to be openly friends with me again, you know? If the other Slytherins knew we were talking, Draco and I could never be the way we used to be ever again! I don't want that. I want my brother back."

The tiniest of sighs escaped Dumbledore's lips before he said, "Yes, I can see that. But are you really that eager to sacrifice the happiness of a friend in order to accommodate your brother, who, by the way, has a choice in this matter? Could you not ask him to accept you and your friends for who you are?"

Ron had never thought of that. Draco had been dictating Ron's friendships and interactions for as long as he could remember, so it just seemed natural to do as he said. But now that he thought of it, it made complete sense to him. Ron had to pull Draco aside and talk to him about the arrangement they had going on. It wasn't working out for anyone – not for him, not for Hermione, and not even for Draco, really. "I could do that," Ron said with the air of someone who was formulating a plan in their mind.

"Then do it," Dumbledore prodded on.

Ron smiled at him gratefully, then made to leave. "Have a good night, professor," Ron said. Dumbledore nodded with a grin and allowed Ron to leave. But before Ron walked out of the door, he realized he had a question of his own. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore. What's Pick 'n' Mix?"

Dumbledore actually laughed, his eyes shining in mirth. Clearly he hadn't been expecting such an innocent question from Ron after the long, quite intense discussion they had just had. "It's a Muggle way of buying candy. It's quite fun. I daresay, you should try it next summer." He continued to laugh as Ron left his office, shaking his head.

Muggle candy? Their headmaster really was a nutter, wasn't he?

* * *

_**So, reviews? Anyone? Please? Just tell me what you thought of the Weasley twins, Snape, Ron's reaction to Snape, and his conversation with Dumbledore? Did I give Ron too much to think about? After all, how does Dumbledore know so much about him? I know the end of this chapter is a little hasty, and I intend to fix that when I rewrite this story eventually. Just let me know what you think otherwise.**_


	7. Feud

**Hey everyone! Like last chapter, this one may seem rushed (particularly at the end), but I REALLY wanted to post again so that you guys could have an update.**

**Also, to answer some questions regarding Ron's illness, no he's not really sick. His bad reaction to the potion is an allergy. I was going to state that later on down the road (probably not in this story), but there were so many questions regarding it, that I thought I'd clear that up. The illness cover-up was created by Lucius and Narcissa in order to fool Ron into taking the potion in the first place. **

**Anyway, enjoy! And please feel free to leave reviews! I love them!**

* * *

_**Chapter Six:**_

_**Feud  
**_

"Dumbledore wants you to befriend Harry, then?" Hermione asked the next day, as she, Neville, and Ron sat in a corner of the packed Gryffindor common room. She had her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ opened upon her lap, but she had long since stopped looking at it. Neville was seated next to her with _Magical Drafts and Potions_ pressed up to his face as though it was the most exciting read in the world (he really was determined to do a better job this week in potions). It didn't bother Ron that he hadn't listened to his account of his meeting with Dumbledore, since Neville had heard all about it last night in the privacy of their dormitory.

At first he debated whether it was a good idea to tell Hermione everything. After all, her name had been brought up in the conversation. But then he asked himself what Professor Dumbledore would have him do. His advice had been for him to stand up to Draco, and that included being more open with Hermione. So, he had steeled his nerves and spilled everything, feeling more and more relieved the more he shared with her. If anything, Hermione was a really good listener, and it was nice to see her face rapt with attention, absorbing every little detail like it was something she had devoured from a textbook.

But then, after she had heard the entire spiel, she picked out the one detail that Ron really wanted her to gloss over. He sighed in frustration, rolling his eyes and glaring at her hard. Hermione looked completely and utterly unabashed. "Yes, he wants me to be friends with him, but that wasn't the point of me telling you that!"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air, and Neville gave an automatic flinch while he continued reading. "Then what was?!"

"It's what he said! 'You need each other. More than you know.' What did he mean by that? I really feel like there's something he isn't telling me, Hermione."

The skeptical look upon Hermione's face only aggravated him more and he found himself clenching his fists in repressed rage. Honestly, Hermione really could be so very infuriating sometimes. When he found something of vital importance, she tended to be unable to understand why, and when she was upset, he could never find a reason for it. It was like a weird sort of dance that they were constantly involved in; he would move one way, she would go the opposite, and vice versa. Sure, they were best friends and everything, but for once he wished she were as compliant and agreeable as Neville.

And sure enough, she bit her lip and said, "Well, I don't know if Dumbledore is really hiding anything from you, Ron. I think maybe you're misinterpreting his meaning."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ron snapped, unable to control himself. Hermione looked taken aback. "What would he mean by that then?! Why would Dumbledore say that unless there was something more to it?!"

"Calm down, Ron!" Neville suddenly said, emerging from behind his book and greeting Ron with a slightly bothered look on his face. It took Ron by surprise; Neville had never, ever had the gall to stand up to Ron when he felt he was being unfair. He stared at Neville as though he were a bizarre creature who he had never set eyes upon. "Hermione has the best brains of all the first years. Let her think it through and explain it first before you start sniping at her."

Ron had the good sense to look ashamed with himself. "Sorry," he mumbled to both of his friends. He expected for Hermione to say that it was all right, but instead she gave a small giggle and covered her mouth with her hand, as though trying to hide the fact that she had found Neville putting Ron in his place amusing. Ron grinned at her, and for a moment, the three friends shared a laugh, which was something that Ron realized with a pang that they did not do enough.

"What I meant," Hermione eventually said through her mirth, "was that Dumbledore might think you guys need each other, because of Draco. What if by being friends with Harry, you make Draco a better person? I mean, it's obvious that Draco wanted to befriend Harry on the Hogwarts Express, but he felt like he couldn't, because he was friends with us. What if you show Draco through Harry that everyone is equal?"

Ron screwed up his face in concentration. "I don't know. It seems like that would be something that Dumbledore could have easily told me. Why wouldn't he just outright say that he thought Harry would be good for Draco?"

"Maybe he wanted you to learn it on your own?" Neville suggested.

Ron nodded. Yes, that seemed like something Dumbledore would do. Teach someone a lesson by guiding them and making them think they realized it on their own. Ron glanced across the crowded common room over to Harry, who was sitting alone, staring out of an open window to the quidditch pitch, where the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were now, the twins trying out for the Gryffindor team, and Jordan trying out for commentator. He looked dreadfully lonely, and for the first time in a while, Ron's heart went out to him.

"Hey, Potter!" he called. Several fourth years nearby looked at him with dislike (a lot of people hadn't forgotten his reaction to being a Gryffindor), and Harry suddenly jumped, an almost guilty expression upon his face, as though he had been caught doing something wrong. "Why don't you come over here and study with us?"

Neville and Hermione both waved, merry expressions lighting their features. Harry glanced between the three of them. He looked suspicious and Ron wondered if maybe he thought he was up to something. He gave Ron a very cold glare then said, "No thanks, I'm going out." Harry then jumped up from his seat and marched out of the room through the portrait hole.

This was going to be a lot harder than he had expected.

* * *

_I should have chosen a better day to do this_, Ron thought with a sigh. Saturday had gone by in a blur of studying and spending time with his steadily growing group of friends, and now Sunday was here. Tonight was the new moon, which meant that he had to take his potion that morning. He was feeling lousy.

It had always been rather difficult for Ron to understand exactly why he always felt worse after taking his potion. After all, it was supposed to help him, but it really didn't feel like it did. His mother had assured him constantly that the potion was one that had to make you feel a little bit worse before you felt better, but Ron really didn't understand why. Couldn't the ingredient that made him feel terrible be omitted? Then he'd just feel good. He supposed that maybe the ingredient that made him feel worse was also the one that made him feel good in the end, though it seemed silly that it should work that way.

He had spent the majority of the morning in bed. Neville had offered to bring him up some food from the Great Hall, but Ron refused, knowing if he ate anything solid that it would come back up anyway. Hermione visited once to read some of her transfiguration notes to him, but it had only put him into a deep sleep, partly because her voice was surprisingly soothing to his headache and partly because the notes themselves were dull.

It wasn't until Harry came in that he decided he needed to get up for the day. "Are you all right?" Harry had asked. The curtains to his four-poster were drawn, so Ron could not see his face. All the same, he was shocked by the amount of concern that saturated Harry's voice. "It's just, Fred and George were wondering where you've been."

Ron contemplated being mean back to Harry, even though the boy seemed surprisingly caring in the moment. It would just feel good to take out all the pain he was feeling on someone else. Taking a deep breath, he remembered the deal he had made with Neville and Hermione the day before: He would try and be nicer to Harry. It may be the only way he could get Draco to be more accepting and get him away from Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm sick," he simply said, curling up into a tighter ball and shivering.

"Yeah, that's what Neville told me," Harry replied. "What's wrong? You seemed fine yesterday."

For some reason, Ron didn't want to tell Harry about his potion. Not yet, anyway. He had such a shaky past with the Boy Who Lived, that it just seemed awkward. So he just said, "I'm not feeling well. I'll be better tomorrow, I think. Tell them I'm sorry."

"Right," Harry had mumbled somewhat disappointed, and Ron strained his ears for the sound of the dormitory door closing. After he was certain Harry was gone, he had thought about what to do. He hadn't seen Draco in a good long while – well, since Thursday, but it had felt like it had been forever – and he realized that eventually, he was going to have to tell him the truth. He wanted to be friends with more than just Neville. Ron longed to be able to spend time with Hermione in public, to make friends with Dean Thomas, who despite his love of the muggle game "football" actually seemed like a kind bloke (forgetting, of course, that every time he glance Ron's way he gave him the most disgusted look). And now he thought, as he pondered over how worried Harry had sounded, that maybe he wanted to try to be friends with Harry.

He couldn't let Draco stand in his way anymore, even when he was sick. So, as painful as it had been, he had dragged himself from his four-poster and gotten dressed. He then traipsed through the common room, ignoring Fred and George who seemed determined to make him play a game of exploding snap, and out of the portrait hole.

Ron had no idea where Draco would be, but he decided to check the library first. Maybe he was worried about Ron, remembering that it was the new moon, and decided to wait in there for him? But when he searched around in every nook and cranny, he saw nothing of his twin.

_He's probably in his common room_, Ron mused. It wasn't a particularly nice day out, so he was certain that Draco had to be inside, but there was always the possibility that Draco was angry with him for standing him up on Friday and was avoiding him. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the library, deciding that he would wait next to the Slytherin common room entrance all night if he had to. He would talk to Draco tonight.

As it turned out, Ron didn't have to wait next to the common room at all. He ran into his brother in the entrance hall. He was just walking up from the dungeons, Pansy Parkinson in tow. Ron had no idea what Draco would be doing with her – the last they had talked, Pansy was a source of frustration where Draco was concerned, always tailing him and interfering on the Malfoys' quality time with one another. It shocked Ron quite a bit to see his brother seemingly enjoying her company, bragging about the size of Malfoy Manor and suggesting she come over sometime.

They were both just about to climb up the marble staircase when they stopped in their tracks. Draco stared at Ron, his eyes a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. Clearly he hadn't wanted Ron to see him with Pansy Parkinson. "Oh, look, it's your stupid Gryffindor brother," Pansy jeered, laughing like an idiot at the sight of Ron at the top of the steps.

Ron ignored her. "Draco, can we talk?"

Draco looked at him incredulously, as though disbelieving Ron's gall. He had told him that the Slytherins weren't to know they were friends, yet here Ron was approaching him in front of another Slytherin as though they were right old chums. "No, we cannot talk," Draco said. He sounded horribly unlike the Draco Ron had grown up with. His voice was harsh and dismissive, his features angry and annoyed. Ron felt, in that moment, that he no longer knew his twin brother. "Why don't you go back to Gryffindor tower, where you belong?"

Ron sighed. "I don't have time for this, Draco. I'm not feeling well." He stared at him meaningfully, and realization suddenly struck Draco. Ron wondered if he was now seeing all of the telltale signs of sickness upon Ron; the paler than usual face, the bags under his eyes, the sweaty forehead that came with the fever he was suffering through. "Just talk to me for a few moments," he begged.

Pansy laughed at him, but Draco stopped her from mocking him. "Yeah, all right," he had said, shrugging his shoulders despondently. Draco didn't like it when he didn't get his way. _Well, if he doesn't like that, he's really in for a surprise_, Ron thought grimly.

They went to an empty classroom on the first floor to talk, leaving Pansy behind in the entrance hall to wait for Draco. When they were finally cloistered within the classroom, Draco immediately turned to him and said, "Sorry, but I had to act like that! If I would have been alone, I would have gone right with you, but as it was, I didn't want Pansy realizing we're still friends."

"Yeah, about that-" Ron began, but was quickly cut off.

"How are you feeling? I forgot it was the new moon! I'm sorry, if I would have known, I would have sent Ares with a message to you about meeting up or something." Draco's eyes shone with compassion, obviously feeling for his poor sick brother. Instantly, all sorts of conflicting emotions descended upon Ron. He felt bad that he was intending to tell Draco that their deal was off, imagining what it would have been like if he had been in his shoes. A Slytherin who had a Gryffindor brother? The Slytherins, Ron had realized long ago, were less forgiving.

But still, he was getting tired of feeling so used. Draco was being selfish. He got the added benefit of being friends with whoever he wanted within Slytherin house, while Ron was supposed to only be friends with purebloods. It wasn't fair and Ron knew it.

He thought it would be best to ease into the discussion, though. Ron wearily said, "I'm fine, I guess. I've been in bed all day."

"Where were you Thursday?" Draco asked as casually as he could.

Ron explained all about his struggles with taking Neville to the hospital wing and how he had run into Fred and George Weasley. "It was kind of hard to get away from them, and it felt so good to be making new friends that I kind of lost track of time," Ron said, expecting Draco to blow up at him for forgetting him in lieu of new friends.

Instead, Draco said, "Fred and George Weasley…Are they those identical twins that always chum around with Harry Potter?" Ron felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. This was it. He knew that as soon as he started talking, they would be forced onto the subject of whom Ron could and couldn't befriend.

"Well, yes, actually," Ron said casually.

Draco looked like he swallowed a fish. His eyes bulged dangerously, and for a brief moment he was speechless. "Yeah, you can't be friends with them," Draco eventually said. "I told you that you can't be friends with Harry Potter! He's a good for nothing tosser!"

"I'm not friends with Harry," Ron quickly said. Then, steeling himself, he added, "And why do you feel like you can tell me who I can be friends with? Fred and George are nice blokes and I'll bloody well be friends with them if I want to!"

"We had a deal, Ron!"

"Yeah, and you know what? I've gotten nothing from that deal! I get you making fun of me in classes, then apologizing later when we're alone, and I get to only be friends with Neville. I want to live my own life, Draco!"

"I can't believe how selfish you are!" Draco shouted at him.

"I'm selfish?! Sorry, but I'm not the one saying, 'Oh, you can't spend time with them, it'll make _me_ look bad!' So what if the people who are nicest to me are Muggle-borns and friends with Harry Potter? I don't care!"

Draco suddenly laughed at him menacingly. "That's what this is about! You want to be friends with that Hermione girl? You're so pathetic! She's a _Mudblood_, Ron!"

Ron didn't know why, but he utterly lost his cool in that moment. His fists clenched in rage, his heart raced frantically in his chest, and he stood up from his chair, staring hard into Draco's gray eyes. "_Don't call her that!_" he spat in his brother's direction. "She's my friend!"

Once again, Draco mouthed wordlessly for a moment before saying, "You said you wouldn't be friends with her anymore! You lied to me!"

"Oh, big bloody deal!" Ron said while throwing his hands up dramatically. "Heaven forbid I lie to my brother! It's not like you haven't been lying to your entire house about being friends with me! We're twins, Draco! We shouldn't have to sneak around and hide from everyone in the library. It's ridiculous that you've let them run your life like you always try to run mine."

"I don't try to run your life!"

"YES YOU DO!" His own voice echoed around the small room, stinging his ears and only augmenting his headache. Ron didn't care. Now that he was at it, he couldn't stop himself from laying out all his complaints on Draco. "You're always telling me I should do as you say. I want to do as _I_ say, Draco! I can't keep hurting Hermione! She's a good person, Draco, and you'd know that if you would just stop being such a bloody prat and get to know her."

"I don't want to get to know her!" Draco said venomously. "She disgusts me, and frankly, _you_ disgust me! How could you be friends with someone like that? Don't you know what Mum and Dad would say?" For the first time in his life, Ron felt like he could see through his brother. Fear like he had never witnessed before shone in his eyes. He was scared of disappointing them, scared of hearing their father accusing him of being an unloving son. Even through the anger and resentment, Ron's heart sort of went out to Draco in that instant.

"Draco, Mum and Dad are going to love us no matter what," Ron said as quietly and calmly as he could muster. Draco's eyes widened, as though he was shocked that Ron had been able to pick up on his deep-seated fear. His jaw dropped and his posture slumped. Ron could see that he was at a loss for what to say.

Finally he said in a very mournful voice, "I like things the way they've always been. I don't want more friends, especially from Gryffindor."

Ron's heart pounded in his chest. He realized in that instant what would have to be done. Draco was unreasonable. At least, he was while he was still at Hogwarts. He knew that there would be no changing his mind here, when he was surrounded by all the other Slytherins and his heart and mind was being polluted by other peoples' prejudice. No, he would simply have to wait until they were home again to start showing him the error of his ways. Until then, he would have to let him go. "Then, we can't be friends, I guess."

Draco looked like he'd been smacked in the face. Ron felt horrible, but he couldn't take it back or stop the inevitable. He simply couldn't make his friends miserable anymore, and he wouldn't allow Draco to do the same thing to him.

"But…but we're brothers," Draco argued weakly.

"Sorry, mate, but that's how it's got to be," Ron said before turning on his heel and walking out of the classroom, leaving his twin brother behind.

* * *

The next week flew by in a confusing blur. Although Ron was relieved to finally be open and honest with himself about who his real friends were, he couldn't help but feel bad about the whole Draco situation. His twin was now openly mean and hateful toward him, scowling at him from across the Great Hall at meal times, talking bad about him loudly in the corridors, and openly making fun of Ron's friends (specifically Hermione, though Neville took a lot of abuse as well) during class. It made Ron seethe, but he figured Draco was merely acting out stubbornly, because he hadn't gotten his way, as he was so accustomed to.

For his part, Neville handled the stress that Draco put on him marvelously. He had adopted the tactic of pretending that Draco was not there, which tended to work well. He never rose to Draco's bait, even when Draco would bring up things about how his family should be ashamed of his magical skill. Instead, he continued to work on whatever project he had at hand, or if he was in the hallway he would just keep walking, silently bowing his head to avoid eye contact.

Hermione, who was much quicker at thinking of a good retort to Draco's belligerence, often did comment back, stating to Ron at one point that someone had to put him in his place. More often than not, though, she would grit her teeth and murmur quietly to herself to just ignore him. It was much harder for her than it was Neville, since Draco seemed to really have it out for her. Finally on Wednesday afternoon, Hermione snapped after Draco had intentionally tripped her in the corridor and told her to stay on the ground, where all good Mudbloods belonged.

"You're not impressing anyone with your racism, you know," Hermione had said in a deadly calm voice, her face pink with suppressed rage. "You're just pushing your brother away, which I know you don't want, even though you pretend to in order to make your house think you're one of them."

"I don't give a damn about _him_!" Draco spat in her face, looking upon Ron with total loathing.

"I'm sorry," Hermione had later apologized, once the initial anger had abated. "I know it was wrong of me to say, but he's just been so nasty to me. I couldn't take it anymore."

"It's all right," Ron said, though really it wasn't at all. The last thing he needed was for Draco to write home and his parents to actually forbid him from being friends with her. Not to mention that the crueler they were to Draco, the harder it would be for Ron to explain his side of things when the holidays came and they actually got to spend time with one another.

In the meantime, Ron's friendship with the Weasley twins was growing deeper. They spent a lot of time in the common room, laughing about past pranks Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan (who was slowly coming to accept Ron as a fixture in their nightly routine) had pulled, planning future ones, and playing exploding snap, wizards chess, and trading chocolate frog cards. Ron rather liked his time with the twins, because they didn't feel the urge to bring up Draco's bad behavior too often, which meant he got a nice respite from the nagging guilt of having let down his brother and causing him to be mean to Ron's friends.

He was even nicer to Harry, trying as hard as he could to not snap at the Boy Who Lived, even when he was at his worst. Harry seemed to have noticed at least a little that Ron was trying to heal their wounded relationship, because over the week his comments had gone from downright horrible, to almost playfully cruel. He still seemed suspicious of Ron's motives, which the Malfoy boy couldn't really blame him for (he supposed that if it had been the other way around and Harry had suddenly been nice to him for seemingly no reason, he would have been wary too), but gradually things were getting better, much to the delight of Hermione, Neville, and the Weasley twins.

On Thursday afternoon, Ron found himself completely distracted from his issues with Draco and his friends by something completely unrelated: Flying lessons. He had known about it since Sunday morning, of course, but now that the day was upon him, he found himself more nervous than he had been since he found out that he was a Gryffindor. It didn't help that Harry and Neville spent the day going on and on about how they were going to be rubbish.

_I already know I'm rubbish_, he thought dismally. His parents had only let him start flying around on Draco's broomstick when he was nine years old, and then they would only let him fly around for a brief amount of time, afraid of him falling and hurting himself. It was a shame, because over the years, Ron had watched Draco get better and better, while he had been forced to sit back and dream of being great, because his parents feared having to take him to St. Mungo's.

He really didn't blame them, he supposed. By the sound of it, they had spent a lot of time there with Ron when he was first born, trying desperately to battle that mysterious illness that now was the cause of Ron needing a potion every month. It had to have been traumatizing, seeing one of their children suffer so much. Still, Ron hadn't been there since he was a baby, and it was rather tiring to keep hearing he was sick and not being able to do anything fun.

The point was, because of their cautiousness, Ron was now going to make a fool of himself in front of Hermione, Neville, Harry, the entirety of the Gryffindor first years, and (according to the flier posted on the Gryffindor notice board) the Slytherins as well. He could imagine Draco's face now, smirking in obvious delight that his brother who had slighted him so couldn't maintain his balance on his broomstick. Ron spent the entire day dreading flying lessons, but being too afraid to really share with any of his friends just how terrified he was.

When the hour was upon them at last, the Gryffindors made their way down the front steps and out onto the grounds, where they saw Madam Hooch awaiting them, standing between two lines of broomsticks, her posture erect and her eyes stern. Many of the Gryffindors – Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas in particular – talked very excitedly amongst themselves, but the three other boys from their dormitory were unusually quiet, each of them wishing that they could have been learning to fly with the Hufflepuffs, or in private lessons.

The Slytherins showed up only a few moments after the Gryffindors, and Ron saw with dismay that Draco was already smirking knowingly, as though he had a million insults he had prepared to throw Ron's way, should the occasion arise for them. Next to Ron, he could hear Hermione whispering, "Relax, Hermione. It will be okay. All of the books you've read on technique will help and you'll be brilliant." Ron rolled his eyes, but offered her an encouraging smile anyway.

At first, the flying lesson went rather well. Ron was happy when his old broom that he had claimed jumped up into his hand on the third try (not as fast as Harry or Draco's, but way faster than Neville and Hermione's brooms had done), and found that as soon as he had straddled the broom's handle, his fear evaporated just a tiny bit. _I'll be fine_, he told himself as he watched the last few brooms that remained stubbornly on the ground reluctantly soar into their owners' hands. _Madam Hooch won't let anything happen to anyone._

As soon as he thought it, though, everything went terribly wrong. Neville had kicked off from the ground really hard instead of softly, like the professor was telling everyone to do. Suddenly he was soaring upward, his eyes round as saucers as he got closer and closer to the tops of the tree. Then, in what seemed like slow-motion, the broom rolled and suddenly Neville was falling through the air, landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

"Neville!" Ron shouted, dropping his broom to the ground and rushing to his friend's side. Tears streamed down Neville's face as he looked at his wrist, which was bent at an odd angle. "Oh, Merlin, Neville. Just stay calm." His voice was shaking in fear for his friend and his heart was racing. How on earth had this happened? Neville had been fine a moment ago. What about Madam Hooch keeping everyone safe? "It will be all-"

"Out of the way!" Madam Hooch's voice snapped from behind him, and in an instant, Ron was being shoved aside roughly so that the teacher could get a good look at Neville. Ron glared at her hatefully, angry that she hadn't helped Neville at all in his moment of need. All she had done was telling to come back down, which was impossible for him, since Neville had never been on a broom in his life until that moment. How was he supposed to know how to come back to the ground? "Broken wrist. Come on, boy. It's all right. Up you get."

Neville struggled in standing up, but eventually he was standing, his face red as tears fell freely. "None of you move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are, or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch!'"

Ron watched helplessly as his friend was lead away, wishing with all his might that he could go with them to the hospital wing. After all, Ron had been allowed to go after the potions incident (well, actually Snape had told him to go with Neville). He just wanted to be there for his friend. Distracted by anger over being shoved aside so roughly and not being allowed to go with Madam Hooch and Neville, Ron didn't realize until it was too late that Neville's brand new Rememberall was lying upon the ground, ripe for the picking.

"Oh look, it's the great lump's Rememberall!" Draco was saying as he picked up Neville's present and eyeing it malevolently. "Maybe he should have used it to remember how to be a proper wizard. What an embarrassment!" He laughed as he tossed the little ball up and down, smiling at Neville's ludicrousness.

"Give that-" Harry started to say, but Ron cut him off.

"Put it down Draco!" he was positively snarling at his brother. It was one thing to mess with Neville while he was around and could effectively defend himself, but to cruelly laugh at him behind his back was another thing altogether. Draco grinned, as though glad to see his brother had taken the bait.

"Why should I? He won't remember to use it, he doesn't deserve it. I think I'll put it in a tree." He took his broom in his hands, mounted it, and was within seconds soaring as high as Neville had done with no effort at all.

"Leave him alone, Draco! You have a problem with me, not him!"

Draco laughed. "Why don't you come up here and get it, then? Oh that's right, you can't! You're too sick!" Suddenly, all of the other Slytherins were laughing at him, and Ron was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that Draco must have told them all about his need to take a potion every month. "You still have to use my old training broom at home, because Mum and Dad don't trust you enough to ride a real one!" All of Draco's friends were laughing, and despite how hard Ron tried, his ears betrayed his embarrassment, turning red from all of the attention, his heart hammering in his chest as rage and mortification washed through him all at once.

"Just give it back! I can't help that I'm sick and you know it!" Ron pleaded weakly, trying to fight off the urge to cry. He hated looking so pathetic, and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did.

"I guess that's why you were put into Gryffindor," Draco said. "If you weren't such a weak little prat the sorting hat would have seen you were a real Malfoy and put you into Slytherin."

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" The Slytherins were all silenced at once, and Ron turned toward the source of the admonition in astonishment. Standing behind him, Harry Potter was glaring up at Ron's brother with hate in his eyes, his fists balled, and his own silent tears streaking down his cheeks.

**Again, leave me a review! Whether it's praise or criticism, I appreciate it! **


	8. Punishment

**Hello everyone! Long time, no see. Actually, very long time, no see. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I have all sorts of excuses for it (mainly that I've been writing my own fantasy novel and I've fallen in love with it, which makes it hard to walk away from), but I want you to know that I have never forgotten about this story. It's been constantly on my mind, I just haven't found the time until recently to really devote to it. I intended to come back to it once I finished my novel, but I've gotten so much positive feedback and pleas for me to continue lately that I decided to put aside time in the past two weeks to dedicate to The Second Malfoy. This is the fruit of my labor. Sorry this chapter isn't as long as others, but I think I've done an admirable job, considering how long I was away from this project. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

_**Chapter Seven:**_

_**Punishment**_

Ron paced back and forth nervously in front of Professor McGonagall's office, biting his nails and wracking his brain for some understanding of what had just happened. Draco had been teasing him atop a broomstick, brandishing Neville's Remembrall about like a madman, and suddenly Harry had spoken up in Ron's defense. This was an insult to Draco, who had been under the impression that Ron and Harry were something akin to mortal enemies, and a shouting match ensued, the likes of which few had ever heard before.

Ron hadn't known just how much anger Harry had been harboring for his twin. He had rather felt that Harry was more hateful of him. But the words that Potter threw at Draco—the most memorable insult being, "Why don't you grow up and start acting like a real brother should?"—revealed just how much Draco really had gotten under his skin. Ron would never forget how Harry's face had lost all its color, how his brows had knitted themselves close together with consternation, and how his fists clenched so tightly around his broom until his knuckles were pearly white. Harry Potter had been in a rage.

It would have been fine if that had been all that happened, but it wasn't. The more Harry shouted the more determined Draco had been to see to it that Ron's entire group of friends be punished. "You want to play it that way?" he had asked with a snarling sort of tone. "Fine!" Then he pelted the Remembrall as hard as he could downward, aiming right for Hermione, who was taken by so much surprise that she was frozen to the spot.

Harry's reaction had been automatic. Mounting the broom in his grasp, he took off with amazing speed, snatching the Remembrall out of the air at the last second, coming so close to where Ron and Hermione were standing that their robes had actually fluttered in the wake of his flight. Just as he landed, however, Professor McGonagall had come from the interior of the castle, striding with the air of someone who was absolutely livid and beckoned Harry to come with her. Draco, who had already touched onto the ground before Harry had even snatched the Remembrall from the air, grinned malevolently as he watched them leave. He turned to Goyle and said, "He'll be out of Hogwarts by the end of the night, thank Merlin. He's the worst thing to ever happen to this school."

Giving Draco the deadliest of glares, Ron had turned on his heels and followed behind Professor McGonagall and Harry, determined to right this dreadful wrong. Hermione had begged him not to go, saying that Madam Hooch would realize his absence, but he didn't care. Harry didn't deserve expulsion; all he had done was save Hermione from Ron's stupid brother. If anything, Draco needed punishing, and that was just what Ron intended to tell McGonagall.

Now he found himself outside of her office, unsure of whether he should knock and interrupt their meeting, or if he should wait until they were done. What if he had already been expelled by the time he made it to her office? What if he was, even now, on his way home? Could they really expel him that fast?

Certainly Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. Even with his limited exposure to the headmaster, Ron felt like he was the sort of man who was perfectly capable of seeing reason. Surely if Ron went to his office and explained, Dumbledore would intervene and Harry would be allowed to stay? Finally satisfied that he had a course of action, Ron began to bolt down the hallway, only to skid right into Professor McGonagall as she rounded the corner.

"Oh! Mr. Malfoy, what _is_ your hurry?" she asked.

"You didn't expel him, did you?" Ron blurted out with no preamble whatsoever.

"To whom are you referring?"

"To Harry!" Ron exclaimed. A light twinkle in McGonagall's eye suggested that she was rather amused at Ron's worry.

"Oh, not today, Mr. Malfoy. He's still your classmate, even though he nearly ran over Miss Granger." McGonagall's face suddenly became more stern than usual, which had to have been no easy feat.

Ron breathed a momentary sigh of relief, allowing the news of Harry's continued education at Hogwarts to calm him ever so slightly. "Good," he said. "Please don't give him detention or anything like that. It's really not his fault."

"It is up to me to hand out punishments, Mr. Malfoy, not you," McGonagall reminded in a voice that indicated her status of authority over her student. Ron brushed it aside, not caring if his gall got him in any trouble at the moment. As it was, he would gladly accept punishment for his brazenness over Harry receiving a detention for Draco's ongoing grudge against Ron.

"You have to believe me," he said. "He was only on his broom, because Draco was teasing me and threw Neville's Remembrall at Hermione! Harry was trying to protect her…he was trying to protect _us_, actually." He felt thoroughly guilty as he remembered Harry in that moment. It was like he was a completely different person, defending Ron so bravely that it put all other Gryffindors to shame. The way he had swooped in to save Hermione was absolutely spectacular. And here Ron had been this whole time, taunting him and treating him like he was burdensome. It made sense for him to have been so hateful for Ron's disappointment at being placed in Gryffindor; Harry fit the house perfectly.

"Your brother?" McGonagall asked in surprise. "You're telling me that you would rather I punish Draco for this over Harry?"

"Well," Ron said, thinking hard about the situation. "I don't really want anyone to be punished. I'm just saying that Draco was being a bully and was trying to hurt Hermione. Harry saved her."

Professor McGonagall thought his words over for a moment, her lips becoming thin as a frown tugged at her features. Ron wasn't sure whether she felt troubled over what he told her or worried that it would create further fights between the Malfoys, Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

"Very well," she finally said. "I'll speak with Professor Snape over the matter and he can determine a proper punishment from there."

Ron's stomach writhed as he imaged what Snape's reaction would be. The man hated Harry and wasn't too fond of Ron, so chances were he'd just ignore the matter and Draco would get off scot-free. However, there was still the slim possibility that he wouldn't be able to overlook what had happened. There were several witnesses who were willing to attest that Draco had tried to hurt Hermione, had bullied Ron, had laughed at Neville behind his back, and had provoked Harry into action. If Draco was punished, the repercussions on Ron would be severe.

It would be worth it in the end, though. If punished, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy would learn just how cruel Draco had been to Ron, and then maybe—just maybe—they could finally move on. Ron didn't relish the idea of watching Draco get another howler, but he admitted ruefully to himself that it might have been just what Draco needed.

"Thanks, Professor," Ron said numbly. He started to leave, but she placed a hand delicately on his arm and he stopped in his tracks.

"Oh, and incidentally," she said, "I didn't give Potter a detention."

"Really?"

"No. I made him Seeker for the Gryffindor team."

Ron's jaw dropped and he stared at Professor McGonagall in utter disbelief. First years never made the house teams! Was this some kind of a joke? Here Ron had been, worrying to death over Harry, only to find out that he hadn't been in danger of expulsion after all. He had actually been rewarded by becoming a member of the Quidditch team.

"But don't tell anyone just yet," she added, registering Ron's shock and cracking an oddly uncharacteristic grin, which was followed by a truly terrifying wink.

_Is it just me_, Ron thought as he left McGonagall and started heading up to the seventh floor, _or has everyone gone completely nutters today?_

When he finally got through the portrait hole and into the common room, Ron wasn't surprised to see the majority of his house enjoying their afternoon within. The only people not present were the other first years, who Ron supposed were still outside, either waiting for Madam Hooch or commencing the lesson. Scanning the space for Harry, he was disappointed to see him nowhere in sight. Surely he didn't go back to the grounds?

"Malfoy!" Fred hailed from across the room. He had a deck of exploding snap cards in his hands which he held up for Ron to see—an invitation to play.

Shoving his way through the room urgently, Ron pushed past a group of chatty fourth years to get to the twins and Lee Jordan. "You guys haven't seen Harry, have you?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, he went up to his dorm. Why?" George was looking at him suspiciously, though it wasn't laced with the same sort of malice he had formerly bestowed upon his friend. Ron waved the question away and started to turn around, when an excited Oliver Wood (who Ron knew was the Gryffindor quidditch captain) forced his way in their direction, blocking Ron's path. He had a fresh piece of parchment in his hand and a wild look in his eyes indicating pure excitement.

"Quidditch practice begins Saturday evening," he announced to the twins while pinning the parchment to the notice board next to where Fred and George were seated. "Six o'clock."

"So, what? Are we practicing without a Seeker then?" Fred asked.

"No, we got a new-" he started, stopping as soon as he saw Ron was present. Ron immediately knew what he was thinking and rolled his eyes in frustration.

"I already know," he said. "And if you think I'm going to run off and tell the Slytherins, don't. They all hate me anyway, and honestly, I'm not too fond of them either." Turning on his heel, Ron marched away angrily. Behind his back, he could hear Fred and George defending him to Oliver, who kept eerily silent.

He took the stairs up to their dormitory two at a time, wracking his brain for just what he would say to Harry as soon as they were together. Now that he knew for a fact that Harry was alright and still enrolled at the school, he had no idea what to do. Would Harry forgive him for everything? Would he finally be able to look past everything that had happened between them? Or was his defense of Ron a one-time thing, reserved only for when Draco was bullying him?

Swallowing his fear of the unknown and his pride, Ron pushed the door to their room open. Perched in the window, Harry was peering out at the world beyond. He had to have been deep in contemplation, because he didn't turn to see who had arrived. Instead, his eyes were transfixed by the swaying of the trees in Forbidden Forest.

"Harry?" Ron asked unsteadily.

Harry flinched as though mildly surprised by the interruption in his thoughts and turned to look at Ron blankly. Suddenly realizing who was standing at the door, Harry jumped up awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head nervously, ruffling the already messy hair in anxiety. "Erm…hey, Ron," he greeted. Two small pink patches graced his cheeks; a sign that he was just as uncomfortable as Ron.

"Hi," Ron said back. They stared at one another for several moments, each unsure of just what to say to the other, but knowing that this moment would be crucial.

"I'm sorry," they eventually said in unison. Ron had more to say and began babbling his apologies, but Harry did too, and before they knew it, they were talking over each other and nothing was coherent.

"You go," Ron prompted.

"No, it's okay, you can start."

"Er…okay," Ron agreed, although he really didn't want to be the first to apologize. There was too much to say, and he feared that if he started talking, he might never stop. Despite this, he plowed on. "Look, I feel terrible about, well, everything. About being such a prat to you, when you really just needed a friend. When _I_ needed a friend, actually. I was just upset, because I've always heard about how great Slytherin is. I wanted to be there too, because that's where my Mum and Dad were. But then I got put into Gryffindor and Draco was in Slytherin. I felt like the hat was saying I was weak. Gryffindor is the rival house to Slytherin and I just always assumed that the worst sort of people end up here. Now I know I'm wrong."

"It's not just your fault," Harry argued. "I could have been nicer. I didn't understand, because I thought your brother was…" Harry seemed to search desperately for the right word, coming up short.

"Being a total git," Ron supplied. Harry looked ashamed at having been thinking just that, but Ron waved it off. "Don't worry. It's not like it's a secret."

Harry smirked at that and then continued. "I just assumed that since you were so eager to follow him on the train and then got so upset over the whole Gryffindor thing, it meant that you were just like him."

"I don't think I am. And I didn't think he was like that either. He didn't used to be." Ron sighed at the utter emptiness he now felt regarding Draco. What had happened to turn his brother into the nightmare he had become? Why was he so keen to keep his slowly growing band of Slytherin friends over his own brother? Feeling distressed, Ron slowly trudged over to his bed, sitting upon the edge and staring down at his hands. Harry followed suit, taking his seat on his own bed, across from Ron.

Harry thought his words over carefully before continuing. "Then you started avoiding Hermione. I didn't understand it at first, because you seemed to get along well enough here in the tower, but when we were out in the castle, it was like you were invisible to each other. Well, that's not true…she kept staring at you all sadly and I realized that you were the one ignoring her."

Ron groaned. "She was staring at me? I asked her not to be so obvious!"

Smirking again, Harry said, "Well, that wasn't the point. I didn't realize until last Friday why you were avoiding her. I just thought you were being mean for no reason. Then when Hermione finally told me, I was even angrier with you, because I couldn't believe that you would do that to her."

"So that's why you didn't want to be nice to me when I became friends with Fred and George and tried to be nice to you, then?"

"Sort of," Harry admitted. "I was stupid. I didn't understand what you must have been feeling."

"Yeah, I suppose not. You don't have a brother, so how could you? We used to be best friends, Draco and me." Ron sat for a moment, reflecting on how much had changed between them. Nothing had been the same ever since Draco had walked into the compartment on the train and saw Ron with Harry and Hermione. If Ron would have known in the moment what was bound to happen, he realized with a pang, he probably would have just stayed there with Harry, Hermione, and Neville. It would have just been easier in the long run.

Harry looked like he wanted to say more, but suddenly the door swung open again, and they saw with mild surprise that Hermione was on the other side. "There you are!" she said, though neither of them really knew who she was referring to. Her eyes shifted back and forth between Ron and Harry anxiously. Deciding to employ a little tact, she asked, "Are you in very much trouble, then, Harry?"

"None at all, I don't think," he said. "I've just been made Seeker of the Gryffindor quidditch team, whatever that means."

"The quidditch team?" Hermione asked, totally bewildered.

"Oh yeah, McGonagall told me about that. Congratulations."

Suddenly Harry had all the appearance of someone who was about to become dreadfully ill. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I've never even played quidditch before. Today was my first time on a broomstick ever! What if I'm terrible?"

"Well, at least you're getting something for breaking the rules," Hermione said in an almost bossy tone that somewhat grated on Ron's nerves. Harry was affronted and probably would have said something nasty in reply to her if he wasn't so queasy.

"He saved you from getting hit by the Remembrall!" Ron said heatedly. "If not for him, you'd be in the hospital wing with Neville!" _I hope he's alright_, Ron thought, suddenly remembering his friend with the broken arm. Was Madame Pomfrey done with him yet, or would he be in there for the rest of the night? Ron made a mental note to visit with Neville as soon as his business with Harry was all sorted out.

"Well, alright," Hermione conceded. "It _is_ rather unfair that you're being punished by playing on the quidditch team while Draco gets away with how he acted. Sorry." She looked at Ron, but he could tell that she really wasn't all that apologetic. There was a certain bitterness there that hadn't been there before. It was apparently easy enough to live with the idea that Draco was ashamed of his brother, but the moment that he acted out against Neville, her, Ron, and Harry, Draco was deemed absolutely unforgiveable.

"Draco didn't get away with it. I told Professor McGonagall the truth and she's going to talk to Snape about it." Harry and Hermione's heads snapped to attention. Ron squirmed under their scrutinizing stares, feeling like the most horrid traitor to his brother, but realizing that he had to have been something of a savior to the two first years next to him.

Harry let out a long sigh after few moments of staring earnestly at Ron. "Sorry that you had to do that, mate."

Butterflies filled his stomach at the sentiment. _Harry Potter just called me "mate,"_ he realized. Trying not to seem too exhilarated, Ron shrugged and said, "Maybe if he gets in trouble for all of this, he might start acting like my brother again."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione said out of nowhere, flinging her arms around him and squeezing him in a tight hug that Ron was certain she thought was reassuring. Instead, his lungs deflated with the pressure and he found it hard to catch another breath.

"Her…mio…ne!" he begged. Across from him, Harry laughed at how utterly ridiculous Ron and Hermione looked. After a couple of agonizing seconds, Hermione realized she was squeezing him to death and mercifully let go. "Merlin, could you hug tighter?"

"Sorry," Hermione said sheepishly as a furious blush crept over her face.

"Come on, guys," Ron eventually beckoned after his breathing returned to normal. "I reckon Neville's going to need some company until dinner."

Obediently, Harry and Hermione followed. For some reason, it felt very natural as they left the dormitory, a trio of friends. As if this was the way it was always supposed to have been. He and Harry, Ron realized, were never meant to be enemies. They didn't work that way. It was just as natural to forgive him as it had been to befriend Hermione his very first day at Hogwarts.

Walking toward the infirmary, Ron couldn't help but feel _whole_. Not completely, of course. The absence of Draco in his life was a hole that was hard to fill. But there was a certain finality to befriending Harry that made him feel like a piece of Ron that had been missing had finally been found.

* * *

Neville had been alright, but Madame Pomfrey ended up shoving them out of the hospital wing after only fifteen minutes of visitation. "Mr. Longbottom needs to recover. He'll be back in Gryffindor tower tonight! Now, off to dinner, the lot of you!" she ordered, shooing them away like they were a pack of pesky cats. Somewhat dejected (they had been in the middle of telling Neville all about the fight between Ron, Draco, and Harry, leaving out the horrible things Draco had said about Neville for fear of hurting his feelings), they ended up arriving in the Great Hall early for dinner.

"The tables haven't even been set," Ron complained loudly as his stomach gave a great growl. "I'm hungry!"

"You're always hungry," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

They ended up waiting for nearly an hour for the start of supper, but the time wasn't spent wasted. Ron and Harry caught up on all that they had missed out on, explaining the things they didn't already know about their lives.

"I live with my Aunt and Uncle Dursley. Aunt Petunia was my Mum's sister and she's absolutely horrible…"

"I was born before Draco, but I was much smaller and was instantly put under and Incubation Charm, because I was sickly. Draco was just fine…"

"Aunt Petunia used to blame me for everything that ever went wrong, and they would punish me if I even mentioned anything about magic or my imagination…"

"I never met a Muggleborn until Hermione. My Dad doesn't really like them, and neither does my Mum really. I don't think they understand, though. I think there were less Muggleborns when they were at school, otherwise they'd know just how good they are…"

Hermione ended up spending most of the time behind her copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, having already known about each of her friends, though she did end up interjecting an odd comment here and there. She was really good about asking questions that neither Harry nor Ron would have ever thought to ask and that ended up leading them into new areas of conversation.

"Where did you grow up, Harry?"

"What was Draco like when you were really little, Ron?"

"What did you think when you were accepted to Hogwarts? What did your aunt and uncle do?"

By the end of it, Ron and Harry were as well acquainted as they would have been if Draco had never gotten in the way. Little by little, the Great Hall filled with people from all four houses, and before they knew it they were sitting in a sea of students. For the first time ever, Ron forgot to look obsessively over at the Slytherin table for his brother's bright blonde mop of hair. He was having too much fun to focus too much on the train wreck that was his relationship with Draco.

But Draco wasn't. They were in the middle of talking about their favorite classes (Ron was happy to see that Harry had the same opinion on Transfiguration as he did) when a shadow was cast by someone standing behind them. Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned around together and were a bit surprised to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle looking disgustingly haughty and contemptuous. Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he realized that Ron was actually having a good time with Harry Potter.

"Having a last meal, Potter?" he snarled. "When are you getting the train back to your disgusting Muggle family?"

Even though Ron had heard nothing good about Harry's family, he couldn't stop himself from jumping up and saying, "Stop it, Draco!"

Draco sniggered and said, "I suppose now that Potter saved your little Mudblood girlfriend, you two are best friends?"

Ron didn't know why he did it. He supposed that there was only so much abuse he could take and that in the moment, Draco had reached his threshold. Or maybe it was because he knew it was the right thing to do. Whatever the reason, he launched himself forward, tackling his brother to the ground and hitting him mercilessly, not caring where he hit him, just that for a moment, Draco would experience the kind of pain that he put Ron through every day. Crabbe and Goyle worked hard to rip them apart (mainly by punching Ron's head and sides), but he fought through the pain. All around them, the great hall exploded in a flurry of movement and shouts, the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables the rowdiest of all as they cheered on Ron and Draco.

"MR. MALFOY!" a familiar voice shouted. A Shield Charm rose up between the two of them, and in the heat of the moment, Ron punched it and was thrown back, up into the air and onto the Gryffindor table. Professor McGonagall was quickly by his side, her face completely livid while Professor Snape pulled Draco from the ground. Ron was happy to see that Draco's lip was cut open, his eye bright red as a bruise rapidly formed. "My office. _NOW._" McGonagall said, beckoning Snape to follow, and they all trudged together out of the great hall, leaving behind them a stunned Harry and Hermione, and an enraged Crabbe and Goyle.

Once within McGonagall's office, she ordered them to sit and took her place behind her desk, her fists clenched on the back of her chair. Snape strode to stand beside her, though he didn't look nearly as furious as McGonagall. In fact, he had all the appearance of someone who was politely bored and impassive.

"What on earth were you thinking?!" McGonagall snapped. She glared daggers at Ron, but he refused to squirm with discomfort or show any sort of remorse. His blood was still boiling with anger in his veins and his breathing was still labored with rage from the insult that Draco had hurled at Hermione. From next to him, Draco let out a sniffle, clearly terrified.

"He called Hermione a…he made of the fact that she's…Muggleborn." Ron locked his eyes on McGonagall's not wavering as he added, "I'm sick of it. I'm tired of being bullied by him, so I took it into my own hands."

Snape smirked and for a moment, Ron was certain he saw an ounce of respect in his eyes. But then he said, "Malfoy, you are at a school where there are several teachers who would be happy to intervene if there is any bullying going on. You could have told one of us, instead of beating your brother to a pulp. Certainly you contain some sort of intelligence, though one would never suspect it."

Ron looked to McGonagall, hoping that she would bristle from the way Snape was insulting an eleven year old student, but she seemed thoroughly unfazed. "What you have done is inexcusable. I don't care how much he's bullied you, nothing gives a student the right to 'take it into their own hands.'" Ron's jaw jutted as she used his own words against him, but he didn't argue. "I think a week's worth of detentions with me is in order for your brutality."

"As for you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape added, glancing down at Draco, whose lip was now quivering. "It has come to my attention that you flew upon a broomstick earlier today when you were ordered not to and that you tried to injure another student by throwing an object at her. You will receive detention with me on Monday night."

Ron's jaw dropped in outrage. Draco was getting _one_ detention for what he had done earlier, and he was getting a full week's worth?! But Draco had hurt more people! He had laughed about Neville, had been cruel to Ron, had fought with Harry, and had tried to hurt Hermione! Shouldn't that be worth at least the same amount of detentions as Ron was receiving?

Next to him, Draco slumped in his chair with relief and gave Ron the smuggest look he could muster with his injured face. Ron glowered back, and as they were released from McGonagall's office, he practically ran to get away from him.

"Bet you thought you'd get me in trouble," Draco said triumphantly. He was running to keep up with Ron gleefully.

"Go away," Ron snarled.

"Why should I? You're my brother and I can do whatever I want. You're the one who will get in trouble for it."

Ron snapped to attention, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Draco. "You're right. We are brothers, but I don't feel like I even know you anymore. I don't want to be near you, as a matter of fact. You're the worst person I've ever met and I just want the old Draco back! The one who was nice and cared for me. The one who talked me into getting an owl in Diagon Alley, who told me it was fine that I got a unicorn wand, and made me feel like it was okay to be me! Let me know when he comes back. Until then, stay away from me."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes, but Ron turned and continued as quickly as he could, searching for the secret passageway that Fred and George had shown him that led up to the seventh floor. All he wanted was to go to bed. Draco followed in his wake, though, laughing at how ridiculous he had been, about how Hermione wasn't worth his time, about how Harry was probably befriending him as a last resort. The beating of his heart hammering in his ears blocked out the majority of what Draco was saying, but he was so distraught that when he came to a locked door, he unthinkingly lifted his wand up. "_Alohomora!"_ he said, hoping that he could dart through the door quickly and leave Draco out in the corridor.

He slipped within, but Draco used his foot and leg to create a wedge big enough to fit his body in. He was so determined to continue making Ron's life a living hell that he was equally unaware of what they were doing.

"Leave me alone!" Ron snapped to him once the door was firmly shut behind him.

"Make me!" Draco pestered. "If you do, you'll only get more detentions."

Growling with frustration, Ron turned to trot down the corridor, but was halted in his tracks by the most terrifying sight he had ever seen. Towering high above them, the tops of its three heads brushing the ceiling and fangs bared ominously was a massive three-headed dog. The hair on the back of its necks stood on end and its piercing yellow eyes narrowed at the two intruders. Rushing forward, the dog launched itself at the two helpless boys, jaws open wide.

Draco was frozen with terror, but Ron wasn't. In a matter of milliseconds, he had flung the door open, shoved Draco out and ran from the forbidden corridor as fast as he could, slamming the door on the way and pulling Draco by the arm to the tapestry that he knew concealed the staircase to the seventh floor. They ran up the steps two at a time, their differences forgotten in a moment of blind panic.

"What…was…that?" Ron asked as soon as they reached the highest floor of the castle.

"A…three-headed…dog," Draco panted in reply.

"Do you…think so?" Ron asked sarcastically. Draco leaned against a wall and shot Ron a deadly look. "Why in the name of Merlin…is a thing like that…in the school?!"

Draco took a few seconds for his breath to return before saying, "It was on a trap door. I think they're using it as a guard dog."

Ron had no idea what they could possibly want to hide within Hogwarts, but he honestly wasn't all that curious to find out. He and Draco had nearly died. Ron suddenly wished he could complain to someone about it, but he knew that it was no good. They had been warned at the start of term feast, and although he had been too distraught at the time to listen to Dumbledore's speech too closely, the words, "…for those who do not wish to die a most painful death," had been hard too ignore.

"We should have never gone in there," Ron said, shaking his head at how utterly stupid he had been.

"I only went in there because of you!" Draco snapped, suddenly looking very defensive.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have gone in there if you wouldn't have been distracting me and bullying me!" It was true. Though he was still prone to getting lost every now and then, he had been in a part of the castle that he had used quite a few times. He should have known that the locked door was the one he wasn't supposed to enter, but his mind had been so full of the taunts and insults that Draco had been throwing his way that he had been momentarily blinded by anger.

"Stop being friends with Muggleborns and maybe I'll stop bullying you," Draco said darkly.

Shaking his head with disbelief, Ron said, "I'm going to bed."

Once in the security of his dormitory, Ron's mind reeled with the events of the day. Harry and he had finally become friends, but a new rift had formed between the Malfoy twins. Ron had actually beaten up his brother. If he were to go back in time to the summer and tell himself that he would actually get physically violent with Draco, he would have never believed it. And yet it had happened. They had gotten detention, and then almost died from the three-headed guard dog in the third floor corridor.

And it still hadn't changed Draco. He was determined to be hateful toward Hermione, Harry, and Neville, even in the face of death. As he fell into a fitful sleep, Ron wondered with despair if he would ever actually be on good terms with Draco ever again.

* * *

**So, what did you think? How did you like Draco and Ron stumbling across Fluffy? I was originally going to do it differently by following the plot in the book with the duel, but I felt this worked better, especially since Draco has a bigger problem with Ron than he does with Harry. Anyway, reviews are great and make me happy, so you should give them. I'll update soon…I hope.**


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